


journals & ice cream

by estora (orphan_account)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Epistolary, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Harry Potter Next Generation, Humor, Letters, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-14 12:35:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 117,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14136162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/estora
Summary: A repost of four old HP fics of mine belonging to my incomplete "journals and ice-cream" series.1. Draco Malfoy and the Trials of Single Parenthood2. Draco Malfoy and the Perils of Dating3. Ronald Weasley and the Midlife Crises4. Lorcan Scamander and the Year of Raging HormonesDraco Malfoy and the Trials of Single Parenthood:Draco Malfoy: ex-Death Eater, former bigot, divorcee, and single father. His wife left him for Viktor Krum, his children worship the Weasleys who clash with the décor, something is rotten at Hogwarts, and he doesn't really know what he's doing. But maybe he's getting the hang of it.**PLEASE READ THE AUTHORS NOTES FIRST**





	1. Draco Malfoy and the Trials of Single Parenthood

**Author's Note:**

> **PLEASE READ THIS FIRST**
> 
> I started writing this series in **2012** , to moderate success at the time. To my own disappointment, I was simply unable to complete the series (four out of eight stories in total ended up being completed), and soon afterwards I pulled the stories down from the internet, wanting to focus more on my original works. Since then, however, I've continued to requests from people looking for the series. So I've decided to archive it here on AO3 again!
> 
>  **Because these stories were written more than 5 years ago, I made a lot of authorial choices then that I would not have made today. Some of it probably hasn't aged very well.** But the series made a handful of people very happy. I haven't made any edits or adjustments to the original text as it was published before 2012, nor will I be completing the series - but I hope a few of you will at least enjoy it.
> 
> If you're an old fan of mine, I am very pleased and proud to announce that I have self-published my first novel! [Follow me on my Tumblr for more details about _Heart of Dust_.](https://hlmoorewrites.tumblr.com/post/171495100438/doran-had-a-problem-and-it-wasnt-that-hed-been)

**Chapter 1: from the journal of draco malfoy I**

_July 3, 2017_

Viktor Krum.

She left me for  _Viktor Krum_. Of all the people she could have chosen, she chose  _Viktor bloody Krum._

I mean. Fuck. What the hell is with his eyebrows? Does she  _like_  his eyebrows or something?

Maybe his cock's bigger than mine. Sure would explain why he looks constipated every time he's on his broom.

Yes, I am drunk off my ass. Shut up.

* * *

 

_July 4, 2017_

One would think I'd learned my lesson about drinking to excess years ago: it causes bad hangovers. Thank Merlin for pepper-up potions.

All in all, I think I'm dealing quite well, last night notwithstanding. It's not as though I married Astoria for love in the first place. She was the only Pureblood woman who'd have me, back then. Draco Malfoy, ex-Death Eater, bigot and shamed.

I was officially divorced yesterday. At least my father is dead – he'd never have survived the scandal.

That's not true. Lucius was many things, but he was first and foremost a Malfoy, and Malfoys survive anything. Except fruit. As far as deaths go, I have to say, father's was disappointingly anticlimactic – he choked on a peach. Mother and I left him alone for two minutes,  _two minutes_ , and when we came back from the kitchen he was dead. Thank goodness the turnout to the funeral was small. Imagine telling all of his associates during the speech that he didn't chew on a mouthful of peach properly.

"Chew your food!" he used to snap at me when I was young and swallowed large mouthfuls without properly masticating. It'd be funny if it weren't so – no. No, you know what? It is funny. I'm sad he's dead, but – come on. A peach? Suddenly getting divorced isn't so bad after all.

* * *

 

_July 8, 2017_

I am worried about the kids. Astoria's touring Bulgaria now with Krummy boy and she's left the kids with me. I have to curse her timing – Scorpius is starting Hogwarts this year, and Livia's birthday is in a few weeks. She'd better be here for both of those occasions, whether she wants to or not. Could she really be that selfish?

…Yes, she can. "I've been a mother for eleven years, Draco!" she said before she left. I think she'd been rehearsing for it, though; the scene was very dramatic. She even had a suitcase and was dramatically throwing her clothes into it. "I want my  _own_  life! I'm tired of being a mother, all right?"

It's like she decided she just didn't want to be a parent anymore. I didn't realise it was a job you could resign from.

I had to leave the kids with mother today while I sorted things out with the goblins. What does Astoria need such a large settlement for, anyway? Doesn't Krum have a few million Galleons to go with his extra-large  _broomstick?_

It's not even the fact that she left me that I'm upset about.

She left our  _children_. She left me  _alone_. And… okay. Yes. I'm worried about being on my own. I love my children more than I ever thought possible. But eleven years of being a father to two children, I'm still terrified I'm not a  _good_  parent.

* * *

 

_July 26, 2017_

I made my first public appearance today since my divorce hit the  _Daily Prophet_. Given enough time between scandals, people eventually forget and move on. They're all preparing for Saint Potter's birthday now, so the Prophet has been running articles on him and his family. Never thought I'd be grateful for Potter, but he's wrenched the spotlight away from me.

At any rate, today was the monthly board meeting for a charity, the Muggleborn Fund.

It's taken many years, but slowly the Malfoy name is being mended, changing to suit the society of today. Old blood isn't as respected as it once was. Nowadays, it's all about what you do for society, how much you donate, how liberal you are in your personal philosophies and policies, how much you know about the Muggles.

Frankly, I blame Granger. (Pardon, Granger-Weasley.)

I digress.

I donate to the Muggleborn Fund on a yearly basis, a thousand Galleons a year. It would be remiss of me to say that I am insulted or hurt by the accusations that I am charitable only for publicity's sake, because that is exactly correct. It  _is_  for publicity. Good publicity, at that. My father, rest his soul, donated to St. Mungo's in his time.

"We are Malfoys," he used to say to me, "and Malfoys always survive."

So this is me. Draco Malfoy. Surviving.

_Later_

I feel compelled to add that just because I am charitable for publicity's sake does not mean I do not feel something for the causes themselves. As a benefactor, I make the effort to appear at every single monthly board meeting, every single dinner party, every single function night.

Earlier this night, we – the benefactors and donators and supporters – listened to the story of a young Muggleborn girl. Seven years old, like my daughter. Her Muggle parents, apparently, nearly killed her in their attempt to banish the "devil" from within her during some disgusting, primitive practice known as an 'exorcism'. They're some fanatic religious people. The girl – Louisa Maybourne – has been moved to an orphanage, where when she reaches the age of eleven she will be supported by the Muggleborn Fund for Hogwarts.

I know what I would have thought as a younger man.  _Filthy Mudblood, she should have died._

Being a father has changed me.

The thought of that ever happening to one of my own children – to an innocent seven-year-old girl, to  _any_  child… I don't think I can finish that sentence. I don't even want to think about it.

I donated two thousand Galleons this year.

* * *

 

_July 27, 2017_

I never doubted my father loved me.

I do doubt he'd have loved me if I turned out to be a Squib.

Scorpius, Livia – you'll never see these words but I want you to know that I am not my father.  _I am not my father._

* * *

 

_August 5, 2017_

That's it. I am never taking children to Diagon Alley on my own ever again.

I'm home now and the kids are finally in bed, but today… good grief.

I lost Scorpius. Well, he ran away, but the point remains. What sort of father  _loses_  their child?

I thought he was handling Astoria's departure well enough. Suspiciously too well, perhaps – and, well, I was right. He chose today to snap. He thinks Astoria left because of him. I think. I noticed how quiet he was being when we were going shopping – just after we bought his wand. I asked him if he was all right and he said, very softly, "I'm fine."

I knew he was lying. Livia was tagging along behind us, playing with a novelty Time Turner, so I took the chance to ask Scorpius again. I'm still not quite sure what happened – it was a bit of shock. Scorpius started yelling at me, something he'd never done before. He wanted his mother to be there for his first wand, and – he'd overheard her that night, when she left. That she was "tired" of being a mother.

Damn you, Astoria, just  _damn you._

He took off and, as small as he is, he disappeared into the crowd at Diagon Alley. And of course I couldn't run after him, because Livia was behind us and I had a bag full of robes and books and other school items. But then Livia also started crying because she'd heard Scorpius yelling and crying. It wasn't even midday.

I suck at being a father.

I think I wandered around Diagon Alley for a few hours with a one screaming child in my arms and another crying child throwing a (very justifiable) tantrum who'd run away. And then of course I had to run into Ron Weasley.

"Hey, Malfoy," he said with a smirk I wanted to smack off his stupid face, "I heard about your wife  _flying_  off with Viktor."

"Yeah, well, I guess he got tired of your Muggleborn wife and wanted something cleaner to play with!"

I didn't say that. I was too busy juggling my screaming daughter, a bag of shopping, a handful of Galleons, and resisting the urge to rip my hair out (even more) to reply. I think I  _might_  have looked like I was on the verge of tears, though, because Weasley looked concerned for a moment – not that I'd ever want his pity, for Merlin's sake – and had to put Livia down because she wouldn't stop squirming. Why was I even  _holding_  her? She's old enough to walk on her own! I think she might have asked to be picked up earlier because her legs were sore. I can't remember. At that moment, though, she wanted to go home and was making a large deal out of it.

"Stop it, Livia! We can't go home, we have to find Scorpius! Now be quiet!"

I may or may not have yelled. I'm certainly not proud of myself.

My little girl took one look at my face and burst into tears.

I never cried in public as a child. Father disapproved of such "grotesque displays". But I let her cry until I felt like crying myself (yes, I felt like crying. I'm pathetic) and dropped to my knees beside her.

"Sweetie, sweetie, please stop crying, Daddy's sorry, Daddy didn't mean to yell –"

I swear, if I hadn't known Weasley was still standing behind me, I would not have said that.

…okay. Fine. Yes, I would have. I can't stand seeing my children cry.

"Here, why don't you go buy some ice cream, okay? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell, I'm just worried about Scorpius. You know I love you very much, don't you?"

Weasley choked behind me. I swear, I could have slapped the idiot, but then Livia sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand and nodded, still looking like I'd kicked her puppy. Usually I'd tell her off for wiping her nose on her clothes – she had a handkerchief, I  _knew_  she did because I made her put it in her pocket this morning – but she looked so upset that I just gave her a kiss on her forehead and sent her off to Fortescue's.

Seven-year-old girls. Merlin help me.

I think I stood there helplessly for a few minutes. My son was angry at me and had run off, my daughter looked like Christmas was cancelled as she bought ice cream, my wife was off in Bulgaria doing Merlin knows what with Krum, and Weasley was still standing there.

"Er. You okay, Malfoy?"

"Do I  _look_  okay to you,  _Weasley_?" I spat.

And I did not, in any way at all, burst into tears. How dare you accuse me of that.

To be honest, I really expected teasing from him. Name-calling. I mean, Draco Malfoy, sobbing in public, in front of Ronald Weasley. I didn't expect him to awkwardly pat my shoulder and force me into a seat. Just as well he did – crying gives me vertigo.

"Er."

"Shut up, Weasley." Although I think it came out more like, "Sh-shu'up, Weas –  _sniff_  – ley."

"…Er." He sounded as out of his depth as I was feeling. "Do you… need some ice cream?"

Which is how I came to be sitting at Fortesue's at a table with my daughter and Ronald Weasley, eating chocolate ice cream. Livia had strawberry ice cream all over her face – she's the messiest eater I've ever encountered – and Weasley sat next to me in silence.

"Why are you in Diagon Alley?" I asked.

"I sometimes work at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes."

"The junk shop?"

"The  _joke_  shop," he said sharply.

"Isn't that what I said?"

He glared. "You're an arse, Malfoy."

I watched Livia eating her cone, blissfully unaware of what an arse her father was being. I sighed. "I need to find my son."

"I heard. He's run off?"

"He's upset. About his mum."

"Sorry about, er. About what I said. Back there."

"Yeah, well. Astoria wanted a bigger broomstick."

I'm proud to say that I made Weasley choke on his ice cream.

Eventually I called Livia over to me and told her we were leaving Fortescue's to find Scorpius, though Merlin knew where he'd be. I just hoped he hadn't made his way to Knockturn Alley. I'd spent far too much time there as a child. Picturing my own children in that place made me feel ill. Weasley finished his ice cream and watched start to struggle with the bags again.

"Just shrink them, Malfoy."

In hindsight, I think I just had too much on my mind to remember to shrink the damn things earlier. Had he said that to me twenty years ago, I probably would have turned my nose up and carried the bags around as they were, just to prove a point.

I was tired. My son was upset and was missing somewhere in Diagon Alley. My daughter was getting ice cream all over her clothes. My ex-wife had dumped me for a Quidditch celebrity, and Ronald Weasley had just eaten ice cream with me.

I shrunk the damn bags.

"Do you need help?"

"No." I hesitated, then said, "But thank you."

Squeezing blood out of a stone would have been easier. Weasley looked like he thought the same. "S'okay," he said in the same tone.

Livia tugged on my arm. "Daddy? Daddy, can we go to the joke store? Please?"

I sighed. "No, Livia. We have to find Scorpius."

She pouted. She's too damn  _good_  at pouts, and I'm pretty sure she knows it.  _I_  know it. I still fall for it. She knows that, too. " _Please_ , Daddy?"

I put my foot down this time. Sort of. "Maybe tomorrow."

"Er," Weasley said again. I resisted the urge to make a snide comment about the extent of his vocabulary. "Good luck. With finding your son, I mean."

Ronald Weasley being nice to me. The world's ending, I'm sure. "Thanks. Maybe I'll end up coming by your junk store tomorrow."

Weasley scowled, but then Livia betrayed me and cried, "It's a  _joke_  store, Daddy! And you have to promise to take me because my birthday's soon and you just said we'd go tomorrow, so can I please please  _please_  go?"

"I said 'maybe'! And your birthday isn't until –"

"Of course you can!" Weasley suddenly said, grinning (in what I think was more of a  _take that, Malfoy, your own daughter's on my side!_  kind of joy than genuine adoration for Livia).

And that's how Ronald Weasley became my daughter's favourite person in the world for an hour.

I found Scorpius not too long later, thank Merlin. He was hiding in a back corner of Flourish & Blotts, curled up with a heavy book across his lap.

My son, my poor son – he'd been crying silently for hours on end. We didn't say anything when I found him. He just ran over to me and hugged me, and I held him back. I didn't care it was in public. I didn't pull away, or tell him to compose himself, or act like Lucius would have. I have no memories of hugging my father.

I'll talk to Scorpius and Livia properly tomorrow.

And then take them to the bloody junk shop.

* * *

 

_August 6, 2017_

I spoke to my children just now. They're getting ready to go to Diagon Alley again, and thankfully today I don't have to worry about shopping for Hogwarts. I don't have the energy to record all of this morning here, but it was draining. Extremely draining. Scorpius cried, I cried, Livia cried (but I think that was more because she saw me and her brother crying) and… there was chocolate. Lots of chocolate. Scorpius insisted.

But I think I know why Scorpius was upset yesterday, and probably has been for a while. It's more than just Astoria leaving us. I think he felt like he wasn't a good enough son for her, and he was afraid he wouldn't be good enough for me either.

"Don't leave me as well, Dad," he said.

That's what he said. He begged me  _not to leave him._

And then said, "I'll be better, I promise."

I don't know how long I spent telling him and his sister that I would never leave them and that they were perfect and I loved them and – well, you get the idea.

But… I just… I don't know. I'm still shaking. Have I done something to make Scorpius feel that way? That he isn't good enough? I always felt like that in my own father's presence – that if I didn't do something well enough, if my marks weren't high enough, if I wasn't powerful enough, if I wasn't a proper  _Malfoy_ , he'd disown me. But I never thought I'd made my son feel that way. I'm wracking my memory, trying to think of something.

When I first held him, the day he was born, I promised myself I'd be different. I loved the child I held in my arms, more than anything. He wouldn't grow up feeling like he was in danger of being disowned every breathing second. He'd grow up knowing I loved him.

And today I found out he was worried he wasn't good enough.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised. The apple never falls far from the tree, right? I loved my father. I was also afraid of him.

_Later_

I've never been to a more annoying, obnoxious store in my life, which meant my children fell in love with it.

The place was crowded. The kids looked ready to dive in but I could only grab Livia in time; Scorpius disappeared, but at least this time I knew he was in good spirits and wouldn't leave the store. "Aww,  _Daddy_ ," Livia said, but stopped trying to pry her hand out my grip when Weasley greeted us.

"Malfoy. You came."

"The kids insisted."

"Hi, Mr Weasley!" Livia said, and Weasley looked down at her.

"Livia, right?"

She nodded, delighted her new role model remembered her name. "Yep!"

Weasley smiled. "How do you like the shop?"

"It's  _amazing_."

I wanted to tease her with "Traitor!" but I was afraid she'd think I didn't want her to have fun. She looked up at me and asked, "Daddy, can I look around?"

"Okay, but don't leave the store!"

The crowd swallowed her alive. Weasley must have seen my alarm. "She'll be fine. We have staff all over the place."

"Oh. Good."

There was a short silence. "You, er, okay?" he asked tentatively.

It was as awkward as it sounds. Nineteen years of distance and growth is a long time, but the seven before that were spent antagonising each other. It was a little hard to ignore, though we were both doing a remarkable job. I didn't want to be horrid to Weasley in front of my children, who now worship him.

At least I know what to get them both for Christmas.

"Yeah. I'm fine."

"…No, you're not."

"Okay, fine," I snapped a bit. "I'm not. I have no idea what I'm doing."

He blinked. I sighed, but to my credit I didn't start sobbing again. There's only so much damage my pride can take.

"I just…" I ran a hand through my hair. (My hairline is  _not_  receding, damn it.) "I just worry that I'm a bad father."

Weasley was watching me with an odd expression, but still didn't say anything. Livia and Scorpius saved me from further embarrassment by turning up at my left elbow and tugging on my robes. "Daddy, can I get something? Please?"

"Yeah, Dad, can we?"

That darn  _look_  she gives me. Scorpius too. He's learning how to copy his sister, and he does it  _well_. And after yesterday and this morning, how could I not give in? "All right," I conceded, "but just one! You too, Scorpius. One thing each."

They disappeared again. I wasn't quite sure what to do with myself. I'm beyond the age of joke gifts, although – against my will – I do admit some of the items in the store were rather impressive. Weasley appeared by my side again, probably to make sure I wouldn't sabotage his stock. I spotted Scorpius across the store; he, a moment later, turned and smiled and waved at me. I grinned and waved back.

"Hey, Malfoy?"

"Yes?"

Weasley hesitated. "Seems to me that, if you're worried you aren't a good father… it already means you are. 'Cause you care about it." He shrugged. "Just a thought."

I ended up buying three things each for Scorpius and Livia.

* * *

 

_August 7, 2017_

Maybe I can do this.

* * *

  
  
**Chapter 2: from the journal of draco malfoy II**

_September 1, 2017_

It's  _hard_  trying to organise two children in the morning on your own. I don't know how we even managed to almost miss the train: Scorpius and Livia were up at the crack of dawn, for goodness' sake. It took far too many hours this morning to get ready. Livia kept on changing her clothes and disappearing around the house to play with her junk toys from Weasley's shop, Scorpius kept packing and re-packing his bag, and I was extremely cool and calm and collected, thank you.

I think I deserve a trophy.

At least with Astoria, we could have handled one child each. I don't know how people can handle more than two children. The Weasleys, for instance – they breed like rabbits, but somehow they manage to organise themselves by the very last minute, beyond all reason or sense or logic.

I never realised quite how difficult it was to prepare for a year at Hogwarts. I don't remember ever having quite so many  _things_  with me, either – I'm positive the shopping list was five times larger this year than it was when I was at school.

Anyway, it would have been nice to have some help from Astoria this morning, but I'm lucky for her to have even shown up at the platform to see Scorpius off. Merlin  _forbid_  she miss a 'flying lesson' with Krum. Scorpius was happy to see her, though, so I played nice and so did she.

"Dad, what if I don't get into Slytherin House?" Scorpius said to me right before he was due to board the train. Oh, I dreaded that conversation. And he chose the worst possible time to start it.

I remembered the look on his face when he begged me not to leave him as well, and shrugged as if to say,  _Hey, I'm a cool and hip understanding Dad of the 21st Century_.

"Well, you'll be in some other House then, won't you?"

Scorpius bit his lip. It's a bad habit, that – I'll have to make him stop it. Eventually. "But, Dad… won't you be disappointed? Malfoys have always been in Slytherin. What if –"

"Scorpius." I knelt down beside him. "I don't care which House you'll be placed in, as long as you're happy. There's nothing wrong with Ravenclaw. Or Hufflepuff." I paused. "Or Gryffindor." It took a lot of effort to say those last two, and Scorpius gave me a dubious look. "Well. Maybe not Gryffindor."

"Will you be upset if I am?"

I can't imagine why he  _would_  be in Gryffindor. People call Gryffindors 'courageous' – I call it a lack of self-preservation. My son certainly does not lack common sense.

"Of course not," I said. "It's just red, you know? That colour, it looks terrible on us."

This earned a laugh from him.

I mean, yes, I'd  _prefer_  for him to be placed in Slytherin, because Malfoys have always been Slytherins. But in all honesty, having another Malfoy in Slytherin House – which is still recovering from the War – is undesirable, particularly for Scorpius's own comfort at Hogwarts. Things have changed, the Malfoy name is recovering, but they haven't changed  _that_  much. Kids can be horrible. I should know. It's not as though I was the  _only_  one being cruel, because Potter and his sainted friends gave as good as they got. But still, the point remains.

I guess I'll find out tonight or tomorrow night which House he got into.

It's considerably emotionally draining, seeing your first child leave off for Hogwarts. I'm not going to see him again until Christmas. Did my parents feel the same way, watching me start school? Mother did, I think – father, I don't know and probably never will. Emotions weren't something we were supposed to show, really. I wonder if Lucius missed me. His letters often indicated nothing more than a vague wish of health and a reminder to keep on top of my homework. I guess that was his way of expressing love.

I hope Scorpius will be okay. I'm going to miss him. Things will be… not quieter, because out of the two kids he's the quiet one – Livia makes up the loudness of two children. Things will definitely feel emptier, though. His books always took up so much space, and he's taken most of them with him to Hogwarts. Livia ought to keep things lively, although now that her brother's gone off to Hogwarts she'll need to find someone new to play or fight with.

Astoria didn't stay long after the Hogwarts Express departed, but she stayed longer than I suspect she would have because of Livia. "Won't you stay, Mum?"

Now, if only  _one_  of my children get into Slytherin, I have money on Livia.

"No, Livia, I'm very busy."

Livia's eyes welled up, although I suspect it more of an act than it was real. Livia and her mother never had much interest in each other at home; she's far fonder of her Aunt Daphne and grandmother. Astoria, in return, never seemed upset by that. Honestly, if it were completely up to her I think House Elves would have raised both our kids.

In retrospect, I really should have seen her leaving  _way_  in advance.

"But, Mum…"

"I'll be back for your birthday next week, all right?"

Astoria was lying, of course – Krum has a Quidditch match scheduled in Australia next week and she's definitely going. I'm sure Livia knows Astoria won't be coming for her birthday, but she does know  _exactly_  how to make someone feel guilty. It's the eyes, I'm telling you. The eyes and the pout and the look of sheer devastation on her face. Melts the coldest of hearts.

Take that, Astoria.

"I love you, Mum."

Oh, the  _guilt_. I could practically smell it. Good girl, Livia. You make me proud.

"I love you too, Livia," Astoria said.

"Will you come back home soon?"

Astoria glared at me, as if I put Livia up to it. "We'll see."

And then she left because Krum was waiting for her – probably with a large wooden broomstick. Seriously, gross. She can't actually  _like_  those eyebrows, can she? There's not much accounting for taste there.

I digress.

I spotted Saint Potter and his gaggle of redheaded family and friends at the platform, but I didn't go over. Weasley was there too, and it's a good thing Livia didn't see him otherwise she'd have dragged me over to worship the Lord and Master of Junk Items.

I think Potter has son Scorpius's age, and an older one. And possibly a younger daughter. So the Potters, plus Weasley-Granger's children, plus all the other Weasley children, probably single-handedly populate the school now. Absolute rabbits. At any rate, I did suggest Scorpius not antagonise the Potter-Weasley clan, but it's not really in his nature to do that anyway.

…Well, okay, it is. He's sensible  _most_  of the time, but when he plots revenge, it can get quite nasty. Pansy hasn't spoken to me in three years.

So long as the Potters don't get on his bad side, there won't be too much trouble.

_Later_

I'm betting on getting a letter from the Headmaster before the week is out.

* * *

  
  
**Chapter 3: correspondence I**

_September 1, 2017_

Dear Dad,

I'm in Ravenclaw! That's good, right? I can't believe you didn't tell me the Sorting was just a hat put on someone's head. Everyone on the train was teasing the first years by saying we had to wrestle trolls or that it was really painful or hard. A couple of kids even burst into tears they were so scared. I wasn't scared – it seemed a bit odd that we'd be made to wrestle trolls to get Sorted – but I tried to get away from the older kids and the crying kids. I managed to find a compartment with a girl in it. She let me share with her – said her name was Rose Weasley. I asked if Mr Weasley was her father and she said he was, so now I'm friends with her which means I have practically unlimited access to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes things! Anyway, Rose is nice, if a bit of a show-off. She kept on practicing second year spells and told us she'd memorised  _Hogwarts, A History_. I almost have, too, but you don't see  _me_  bragging about it. She was Sorted into Gryffindor, though, so I guess I'll have to wait and see which classes I have with her.

Speaking of the Sorting, the Hat sang a song. Is it hygienic for it to be placed on every single student's head one after the other? What if someone has head lice? Has it even been washed? The Hat looks  _ancient_. And a bit dirty.

Well, the Ravenclaw Common Room is pretty nice – it's very cosy but not quite like home. The dorm's pretty quiet now – the other boys are all reading. There's this boy called Lorcan Scamander in the dorm who's really weird. I asked him what time it was and he said, "Ah, time. How can we really know what time it is when life itself does not exist in a strict progression of cause to effect? If every moment in history, past and future, happens at once, how can we ever be certain of something so immeasurable?"

So I asked someone else for the time. Actually, I asked a boy called Albus Potter. Do you think he's Harry Potter's son? People seemed to be making a big deal out of him during the Sorting. Anyway, he was sulking on his bed (still is) and told the time like he was on the verge of death or something. I asked him what was wrong and he said he was upset he didn't get into Gryffindor. I told him I was bit upset I didn't get into Slytherin, and he said, "I'd rather  _die_  than go to Slytherin!"

So, he's a twat.

And that was my day. The feast was  _brilliant_ and the teachers so far seem nice. I'm looking forwards to starting classes – Transfiguration looks like fun.

Tell Livia I say 'hi' and that I miss her, and I'll write again soon.

Love,

Scorpius

* * *

_September 2, 2017_

Dear Scorpius,

My sincerest congratulations on being Sorted into Ravenclaw. I have no doubt you'll be an asset to the House. Of course it's good! Blue and bronze look good on Malfoys.

Regarding the questionable hygienic nature of the Sorting Hat, I confess I was rather wary of it myself as a student. The Hat is freakishly old but I'm sure they clean it, and if you're still worried then it's nothing a shower won't fix.

This Lorcan Scamander sounds quite amusing. I do recall some of the Ravenclaw students being a little odd, but they mostly kept to themselves and were pleasant in general.

As for young Mister Potter, as I said before: do try not to antagonise him. He sounds like a drama queen already, and the Potters and Weasleys and their friends and worshippers more or less populate the entirety of Gryffindor House and all of them are likely to jump to his side, including Rose Weasley, in the event of any altercation. Still, I'm glad to see you've made a friend in Miss Weasley, but hopefully for more reasons than the fact she's Mr Weasley's daughter – so don't beg for free items from his junk shop. We are Malfoys and we have money; leave charity for those who are in need of it. Miss Weasley sounds a bit like her mother, at any rate, but also a nice young lady.

Livia says 'hello' as well and congratulates you on getting into Ravenclaw House. She's expecting a letter from you very soon, actually – so don't forget her birthday! I'll never hear the end of it if you do. She'll probably ask me to take her to Muggle London to make up for it or some equally horrifying punishment on your behalf…

Keep well, Scorpius, and take care of yourself. I'm very proud of you, and I'm sure you'll enjoy Hogwarts. Keep on top of your homework and don't stay up too late at night reading!

Love,

Your father

PS: Have you written to your mother?

PPS: Mind your language as well; Malfoys do not swear in public. (Letters are okay, if you must.)

* * *

_September 4, 2017_

Dear Dad,

Thank you! I really do like Ravenclaw. I've had a lot of classes already this week and I've met lots of new people. The Ravenclaws are all really strange but kind of funny, like Lorcan – he hangs around me a bit and he says the weirdest things. So I  _think_  he's a friend, although I'm not sure if he sees things that way. Rose is in my Transfiguration and Potions classes, which is good. She's definitely a show-off, though – she's already all the teachers' favourite and I think some of the other students think she's annoying. I dunno. I kind of like her. Shame she's in Gryffindor House, really – she's smart enough to be Ravenclaw. Some of the other kids tease her a bit when she's not around but she's got lots of Weasley cousins. They've almost  _all_  got red hair.

Don't worry, I'm putting in Livia's letter and a present with this one. Can you give it to her on her birthday for me? (And don't worry about the present either, it's just something I made. Harmless, I swear!) There, I've temporarily saved you from the horrors of Muggle London! But you know she'll drag you there eventually, don't you? You're just delaying the inevitable.

Thanks, Dad. I will. And I promise I'm not staying up too late.

Love,

Scorpius

PS: I sent mother a letter a few days ago, but she hasn't written back yet.

PPS: Albus Potter is still a twat.

* * *

_September 5, 2017_

Astoria –

Livia's birthday is in four days and I know full well you aren't coming back to England to be with her, so don't you dare expect me to be the one to tell her. Write her a letter the moment you get this – and don't think you won't! Aziraphale's very loyal to Livia… just imagine your perfectly manicured fingers all owl-pecked.

Draco

* * *

_September 6, 2017_

DRACO, YOU ABSOLUTE PIG! YOU SHOULD BE GRATEFUL I DIDN'T STRANGLE YOUR DAMNED OWL! PULL ANOTHER STUNT LIKE THAT AGAIN AND I SWEAR I'LL GET THAT DISGUSTING CREATURE PUT DOWN! HOW DARE YOU RUIN MY NIGHT! I HATE YOU AND I HOPE THIS DEAFENS YOU, YOU BASTARD!

* * *

_September 6, 2017_

Draco,

Don't you dare whine about the Howler because you know full well you deserved it.

I wrote Livia a letter telling her I won't be back for her birthday and I enclosed a gift here for her as well. Be sure to give it to her with my love on the 9th.

Astoria

PS: Don't write again unless it's important. And if you send that awful bird again, I'll send it back to you without its feathers. I won't let you ruin my trip with Viktor any more than you already have!

* * *

_September 15, 2017_

Dear Mr Malfoy,

I regret to inform you that there has been a situation at Hogwarts involving your son Scorpius, and your immediate presence is required. I await you in my chamber.

Regards,

Deputy Headmaster Neville Longbottom

* * *

  
  
**Chapter 4: from the journal of draco malfoy III**

_September 9, 2017_

I think I'm being punished, because karma has come back to bite me in the arse with a vengeance. Not only do my children worship the Lord and Master of Junk Items (because Merlin knows  _that's_  not enough): my son has made a friend in said Lord and Master of Junk Items's daughter, and my daughter today declared the other Weasley child as her best friend.

Rose and Hugo Weasley.

Scorpius, I am willing to give the benefit of the doubt – maybe he genuinely likes Rose Weasley. But Livia? I'm almost positive she's done this on purpose.

…All right. I concede that my children's taste in people  _could_ be worse. To be fair, Weasley didn't look too comfortable with the idea either.

Anyway, today Livia turned eight, so naturally she woke me up at the crack of dawn (by jumping on my bed) and made me sing her 'Happy Birthday' still half asleep. She seemed entertained, though, and I received a declaration of "You're my favourite dad in the whole world!" after I gave her a present. (As opposed to being her  _only_  dad? Unless Astoria threatens Krum into marrying her. Or unless Livia has secretly adopted Weasley as another father.) Astoria, thankfully, delivered on her promise and sent a birthday letter and a nice dress for Livia to wear today. I'll say what I will about her, but she had good taste and Livia liked the dress. It has ice cream all over it now, of course.

This morning Livia asked for a trip to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes for her birthday. I don't know why I was surprised, really. It was either that or Muggle London.

I mean, really. Muggle London? What on  _earth_  does she want to go there for? How revolting. What has she even heard about Muggle London other than that it's full of Muggles? I think she just wants to see how many things I'll say "yes" to. Well, I put my foot down today and took her to the junk shop instead. Weasley, or Muggles? A tough choice, but at least the Weasleys are wizards. Sort of.

"You just can't keep away, can you?" Weasley said when I entered the store for the umpteenth time this week. I scowled, but Livia grinned and flounced – actually  _flounced_  – into the store. Except she did it prettily and made some of the other patrons go 'aww'. She has that effect on people, including Weasley.

(Score one for Malfoy.)

I stayed out of the way, mostly, even when Weasley introduced his son to Livia. Hugo is eight years old and shockingly redheaded and freckled like his father, which meant Livia, of course, simply adored him.

I'll admit, the junk shop is a very good babysitting device. I shall have to employ it more often if I need to leave Livia alone for a few minutes. Weasley has taken a liking to her, as has the other Weasley (George, I think? All he's done is glare at me, though). She played nicely with Hugo for a good hour or so before getting hungry.

"Daddy, can we get some ice cream? I'm hungry."

I think this is a new thing for her. Ice cream. Which means it's a new thing for me, which means I'm going to get fat, which means I need to adjust my diet accordingly. Great.

"I don't suppose I could convince you to eat some real lunch first?"

She gave me the  _look_.

I caved. ( _Complete_  Slytherin.)

"All right, sweetie. Have you got everything?"

"Mm-hmm!"

"Are you going now?" Hugo asked.

"Just to Fortescue's," Livia said brightly. "We're coming back!"

That was news to me. Hugo still looked downcast at losing his new friend, so I sighed. "Would you like to join us, Hugo?" I said politely. Public image, you know. Make nice with the Weasley kids.

Hugo turned to his father in excitement. "Can I, Dad?"

Weasley looked a little dubious. "Er."

"Mr Weasley can come too, can't he, Daddy?" Livia asked/insisted/demanded, and that's how I came to be eating ice cream with Ronald Weasley twice in the space of two months. That does not make it a ritual or a habit, okay? It doesn't. Anyway, it was for Livia and Hugo. Weasley was just there to look after his son.

And then he tried to make small talk with me. However, as I was sitting in Fortescue's with Livia, her new redheaded freckled best friend, and Ronald Weasley, eating ice cream and feeling vaguely silly, I talked back.

"So," Weasley said. "Scorpius. Rose has told me all about him. They're good friends at school, looks like."

I nodded. "Scorpius seems quite fond of Rose."

I remember Weasley rubbed the back of his neck, because his elbow jabbed the side of my head. (He didn't apologise.) "S'not exactly what I expected, y'know. The kids all being friends. I mean, who'd have thought?"

Certainly not me, but the kids seem delighted with their new acquaintances. Weasley is mostly baffled, as am I (and convinced it's all some elaborate revenge prank being pulled on me), but… well… looks like I might be having Weasleys over for Christmas. Probably better send mother out of the country for a little while in case she faints at the sight of all that red. They'll clash with the décor horribly. I hope it won't get to the point where I have to consider changing the upholstery.

* * *

_September 12, 2017_

Scorpius's last letter has left me feeling uneasy. He hasn't written anything since, and he's not written any more about Potter's twat of a son. His letters don't say much about other kids other than Rose Weasley, the strange kid Lorcan Scamander, and… that's it, really. He talks a bit about classes.

I'm really worried about him. If other kids are bullying him – and I don't doubt he will be if he hasn't been already – then he hasn't said anything. And there's only one reason for that; they're bullying him about being my son. People still know me as the kid who tried to kill Dumbledore. The Slytherin rat who became a Death Eater. The son of Lucius Malfoy. The man who still lives in the house that the Dark Lord lived in during his final year.

That's what I've passed on to him. That's what other people see when they see him.

Merlin, Scorpius. I'm so sorry. I have a lot of regrets, but none more than the fact that I've put a weight on my children's shoulders that they shouldn't have to carry.

I hope that the teachers are keeping an eye out for him. Flitwick's a reasonable man. Maybe I'll write to him and enquire about Scorpius.

_Later_

I think I'm going insane. I left my wand on my desk, didn't I?

_Later again_

No, it was in the living room. What was it doing there? I haven't gone to the living room this evening.

* * *

_September 16, 2017_

I don't know where to start.

Oh, wait, yes I do.  _Bloody Longbottom_.

"A situation at Hogwarts involving Scorpius" – of all the ways to nearly give me a heart attack. Haven't I lost enough hair already? He must have done it on purpose. No, I  _know_ he did it on purpose.

Thank goodness Livia was spending the day with mother yesterday, because I'm not sure what I would have done with her. I panicked and left the house the second I got that letter. Actually, that whole trip yesterday is a bit of blur, because I don't remember much between tearing out of the house and turning up at Longbottom's office.

"Mr Malfoy, thank you for coming so quickly."

"What's wrong? Is Scorpius okay?"

"He's fine, Mr Malfoy," Longbottom said, frowning slightly. "He was involved in a situation this morning during Potions."

"What sort of situation?"

"I think we should continue this in my office. Scorpius is inside."

I followed Longbottom in. (Seriously, who made that buffoon a Deputy Headmaster?) I first saw Scorpius slouched in a chair, face stony. To his left was a black- and messy-haired child who looked so much like Potter at the age of eleven that I already knew who he was without being told his name. If the kid's appearance didn't give it away, then Harry Potter standing behind his chair certainly gave it away. I stood behind Scorpius and put my hands on his shoulders as Longbottom walked around the desk and sat down.

"What's this about?" I asked.

"We have reason to believe that during Albus's and Scorpius's Potions class this morning, one of the student's potions was tampered with. It exploded, and Professor Kingson was injured. She's in the Hospital Wing now. Madam du Lac is expecting her to wake up shortly, however." Longbottom glanced at Scorpius. "Just after the potion exploded, Albus claims that Scorpius here cursed him and made his tongue turn into a snake's tongue. We were able to reverse the transfiguration. The only thing is, there's absolutely no proof that young Mister Malfoy was responsible for either incident, other than Albus's word."

"Well, who else would have done it?" Potter snapped.

"I didn't cause the accident in Potions!" Scorpius cried. "I wasn't anywhere near it!"

It didn't escape my notice he didn't deny responsibility for transfiguring Potter's son's tongue. I put my hands on his shoulders. "It's okay, Scorpius."

"What, you're just going to  _believe_  him?" Potter said.

"I know when my son is lying, Potter," I said. "If he says he didn't cause the accident in Potions, I believe him."

Potter scowled and I turned to face Longbottom.

"Professor Longbottom."  _Merlin_  it hurt to say that. "Might I ask why this isn't being dealt with by the Head of Ravenclaw?"

"Professor Flitwick deemed the matter and accusations serious enough to be dealt with by me, Mr Malfoy. Do you have a problem with it?"

"No, not at all, except for the obvious bias."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You yourself said so. There's no proof that Scorpius had anything to do with the explosion in Potions, and yet here he is being accused and attacked. By the Deputy Headmaster, no less, who has personal friendship ties with the accuser's family."

Longbottom frowned. "Mr Malfoy –"

"He tampered with a potion, Malfoy!" Potter interrupted. He might be older, but he certainly isn't any less arrogant or self-righteous. "He could have caused serious harm!"

"That is your son's claim. Did anyone see Scorpius do anything? No, be quiet, Potter –" I snapped when he tried to talk. "Just answer me one thing. If it were any other child sitting in this room now, and not Scorpius, would you be acting like this?"

Potter fumed and didn't answer. I tightened my grip on Scorpius's shoulders.

"The… transfiguration, however, may be another matter," I conceded. It's true that the (unofficial) Slytherin motto is 'Deny everything', but Scorpius is a Ravenclaw, not a Slytherin. He plots revenge like a Slytherin, but for decidedly different  _reasons_. His reasons, I doubted, were very Slytherin in nature. At any rate, Scorpius still stayed silent, so I knew for sure he'd done that. Transfiguration like that is advanced, actually, especially for a first year. I'll have to ask him where he learned it. "I also believe that Scorpius would not do anything unless he was first provoked," I added.

"He did it, I know he did!"

"Albus," Potter said, silencing his little ingrate of a son, and I faced Longbottom.

"Professor Longbottom, perhaps we could try and reach an understanding between the four of us first?"

He looked at me suspiciously and searched my eyes, looking for something, I'm sure. Whatever it was, I guess he found it. "Only if you promise not to destroy my office in the meantime."

"Neville –" Potter protested.

"I have to check on Professor Kingson, Harry. She'll be awake now and can tell me what she thinks happened."

Potter scowled again. I resisted the urge to freeze his face that way, just to prove a point. Longbottom left, leaving myself, Potter, Potter's son, and Scorpius alone in the room. Before the Potters could start whining again, I knelt down in front of Scorpius and forced him to meet my eyes. "Scorpius. Why'd you do transfigure his tongue?"

"Who says I did anything?"

Maybe he should have been Sorted in Slytherin after all. I gave him a tight smile. "All right, then. Let's say you hypothetically did it. If you hypothetically did it, where did the explosion during Potions come into it and what reason would you have had to do it?"

Scorpius glared gloomily at the mini-Potter. "I didn't cause the explosion. And he already had a snake's tongue."

Which meant he just used the explosion as a distraction. "What do you mean?"

"He said I was a mini Death Eater whose own mother left because she hated me so much."

This made Potter Senior blink in what I think was shock. "Albus?"

"That's not true!" Potter's son cried. "I never said that to him –"

"I overheard you talking to Rose, you did so say it!"

"Yeah, but I didn't say it  _to_  you –"

Scorpius looked up at me with tearful eyes. "But it's true, isn't it? That's what I hear the other students say when I'm around."

"It is  _not_  true!" I half-shouted. I wasn't panicking at all, all right? I wasn't.

"But she did leave because she doesn't love me!"

My panic subsided. Of the things he'd been called, he'd been more hurt by the one about his mother than the one about me. My son knows what I was, but hopefully he also knows who I am now. My relief, I'm sure, was palpable. I'm also pretty sure the Potter dunces were staring like the dunces they were. "No, Scorpius, we've been through this. She does love you, very much. She just isn't…" I sought for a polite way to put it. "…maternal."

I'd have loved to have said, "She's a selfish cow who only thinks about herself and the sooner you understand that the better," but for all her faults Astoria does love her children (in her own way) and her children love her.

Scorpius sniffled and I gave him a brief hug. Just a small one. I got the feeling he didn't want to be hugged by his dad at school in front of Potter.

Potter, in the meantime, had been talking to his own son. When Scorpius faced them again, Potter tapped Albus's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Albus gritted out, and the snit didn't sound sorry at all.

"Like you mean it, Albus," Potter said.

"I'm sorry I said those things about you and your mum."

Potter looked at me pointedly, so I played along. "Scorpius, your turn."

"I'm sorry I transfigured your tongue into a snake's tongue." He didn't sound sorry at all, either. Oh well.

"And?" I prompted.

"And I won't do it again." Pause. "Unless you deserve it."

Potter rolled his eyes and I sighed, just as the boys started shouting at each other again. Longbottom knocked on the door and poked his head around and gestured for us to come outside. We left the kids to shout.

"How's it going?" Longbottom asked.

"We're sort of making progress," Potter lied. "What does Kingson say?"

Longbottom had the grace to look embarrassed. "She says that Scorpius didn't have anything to do with the explosion. Apparently the rosemary leaves were contaminated and they reacted badly with the other ingredients. I'll check them myself later today because we grow the rosemary potions stock in the greenhouses, but Scorpius is in the clear. There's no way he could have touched them."

"Is it usual for the stock to be contaminated?" Potter asked.

Longbottom looked troubled. "No. Hogwarts hasn't had a recorded incident of potions ingredients contamination since 1967."

I interrupted. "So, Scorpius –"

"All he did was use the explosion as a distraction to transfigure Albus's tongue, yes," Longbottom completed. I suppose asking for an apology on Scorpius's behalf was too much to ask of Saints Potter and Longbottom, so I wasn't going to push my luck. Longbottom continued, "Do you need me, or do you want to continue sorting things out between the four of you?"

I shared a glance with Potter. "I think we're all right."

Longbottom nodded. "Scorpius will still be receiving a few detentions."

Fair enough, I supposed. I went back into the room with Potter where the kids were still shouting and on the verge of physically attacking each other. Potter, I knew, already had his son's wand (he'd been holding it this whole time), so I thought, well, all they need is a good fight to either get over things for good, or get over things until the next fight. The latter, I have to say, is far more likely.

Looks like I'm in for a long seven years.

"Give me your wand," I said to Scorpius.

"What? Why?" He gave me a look of utter betrayal and devastation. (Livia does it better.)

"Just do as I say, please."

He grudgingly handed it over. I pocketed it. "Mr Potter, I propose we leave the boys to reconcile on their own."

"Er."

Here I must wonder if Potter and Weasley learned how to speak English from each other. It would certainly explain why their vocabularies are so very limited.

"But, Dad –" Scorpius said pleadingly. He's just not as  _good_  as Livia at that sort of thing.

"I mean it, Scorpius. Make nice. I'll be back in an hour."

"Dad!" Albus cried, but for the first time since meeting him in 1991, Potter was on my side. He shook his head.

"Al, you're going to be sharing a dorm with Scorpius for the next seven years. So, er. Make nice. I'll be back soon."

We left.

Potter looked nervously at the closed door. "What are they going to do?"

I shrugged. "Don't know. Fight it out or something."

"Fight?"

Potter actually  _squeaks_  when he's alarmed. It's hilarious. "They'll be fine. Have you seen them? They're skinny as sticks. The most they'll do is leave a couple of bite marks on each other."

He seemed a tad placated by that. We wandered out into the hallway. "Now what?" he asked.

"I'm hungry and I've got an hour. I'm going to the kitchens."

"Oh." He blinked. "Can I join you?"

"…I guess."

We didn't talk on the way to the kitchens. Thank Merlin for that, too; I don't think I can take small talk with Weasley  _and_  Potter in the same week. He stayed silent until the House Elves shoved a miniature feast in our hands.

"Familiar sight," he finally said, nodding up in the vague direction of Longbottom's office where hopefully our respective children were not tearing each other apart beyond repair.

"Yeah," I said, and rubbed my forearm. Potter noticed. "Look, about your son's 'mini Death Eater' comment –"

"He didn't get that from home. We're better than that."

All right, fine. Whatever. Maybe his family is better than that and maybe his family isn't – I don't really care. "If that's the case, then I doubt your son came up with it on his own, but –"

"He knows better than that, too. He'll get an earful from Ginny, that's for sure. He probably overheard one of the other students say it." Potter shook his head. "S'not fair to Scorpius, really. Kids can be cruel."

They can be, and I'm certainly not helping. I'd known what Scorpius might be facing at Hogwarts when he started. For all my work healing the Malfoy family name, there's not much I can do about  _my_  public image. You'd think that people would not judge the child for the father's crimes, but… no such luck, I guess.

"You know as well as I do that I don't exactly have many friends, Potter," I said.

It's true.

Nineteen years – you'd think that after trying so hard to reintegrate with society that I'd find a few people I could call friends. I have acquaintances, certainly; but they're mostly business partners, and none of them ever seek me out for company or leisure. I'm not a fool – I know why no-one wants to be close to Draco Malfoy, unless it's for monetary purposes. Still, nineteen years is a long time to go without having someone to call a friend.

Weasley's about the closest I've gotten to an actual friend in a long time.

…Oh, I feel  _dirty_  for writing that.

But back on track. When I said that, Potter looked at me with a hint of pity. That was the last thing I wanted, but I didn't pick a fight over it as much as I wanted to. I'm not a kid anymore, for Merlin's sake. Thankfully he didn't keep talking, and we ate in silence until the hour was up.

It was nothing short of awkward and I shall never do it again.

By the time we got back to the office, Scorpius and Albus were making nice. Or pretending to, at least. They were both still scowling, though somewhat half-heartedly, and Scorpius had a swollen lip and Albus had a bite mark on his hand, but otherwise they were playing a passive-aggressive game of Exploding Snap. Longbottom was there as well, having returned to check up on things.

"Do either of you need to go to the Hospital Wing?" he said to the boys.

"No," they chorused glumly.

"All right, then. You'll both be receiving detentions with Professor Flitwick for three days."

"What?" Albus yelped. He sounds like Potter when he does that – it's more of a squeak. Hilarious. "Why me?"

"What you said about Scorpius wasn't nice. Hogwarts does not condone bullying, Albus. Now, back to class, please, boys."

Albus started to sulk. He doesn't pout nearly half as well as Livia. No-one would fall for his look in a million years. "Bye, Dad."

Potter handed his son's wand back the same time I handed Scorpius's back. "I'll be telling your mother about this, you know."

"Dad…"

"Don't 'Dad' me, mister. Now, off you go. I'll write soon. Take care, Albus."

Albus shot another nasty look at Scorpius, which Scorpius returned, before walking away.

"You too, Mister Malfoy," Longbottom said. "I believe you have Transfiguration now."

Fitting, really. Before Scorpius could leave, he was joined by a student. Well, I say  _he_  was joined by a student, but I really mean the student approached me first. Red, messy curly hair and freckles. No need to guess who she was.

"Excuse me, Mr Malfoy?" she said, and I nodded. "I'm Rose Weasley."

"Oh." I blinked. "Oh! Yes. Hello. Scorpius has told me about you."

We shook hands.

"Hi, Uncle Harry!" she said to him.

"Hi, Rose, how are you?"

"I'll be better in a second." She turned and punched Scorpius's arm.

"Ow! What was that for?"

" _That_  was for giving my cousin a snake's tongue." She pulled a face. "You're really creepy, Scorpius."

Scorpius scowled. "And you're as charming as ever."

She grinned. "Don't mention it. Now come on! We've got class!"

"Bye, Dad! And, er, nice to meet you, Mr Potter!" he added.

"Yeah, you… too…" Potter said, not that Scorpius heard him because he'd already shot off with Rose Weasley. "Huh."

I had a headache by that stage. I think I still have it. "I could really do with an ice cream."

Potter gave me a funny look. "Er."

I ignored him and went and got myself some ice cream.

It had been a long bloody week. Shut up.

 

* * *

  
**Chapter 5: correspondence II**

_October 1, 2017_

Dear Scorpius,

I hope you're well and that you and young Mister Potter have reconciled, if only to the point where you are no longer transfiguring tongues. How are your friends and how are your classes proceeding? I hear from your teacher that you are excelling in Transfiguration.

It may interest you to know that Livia has made close friends with Rose's younger brother, Hugo. I do have to wonder and despair about both your tastes in colour. Will I have to change the upholstery?

Livia misses you (as do I) and she looks forward to seeing you at Christmas.

Your mother has sent a gift from Bulgaria; I have enclosed it in the attached parcel. Be sure to write to her yourself and thank her.

Love,

Your father

* * *

_October 19, 2017_

Dear Dad,

Well, Albus Potter isn't as much of a twat as he used to be, but he's still a  _bit_  of a twat. He thinks the same of me, though, so it's even. He helps me with my Potions homework and I help him with Transfiguration because he's absolute rubbish. I'm really good at Transfiguration! I'm even better than Rose, and she's the best at  _everything_. I beat her in our last Transfiguration test and she was furious. Anyway, Rose hangs around with us a lot and she makes us stop fighting if we start.

Lorcan is pretty good. Still weird, but he says the funniest things. I ask him questions now just to see what he says. The other day I asked him what was his favourite class, and he said, "Favourite? That's terribly subjective, Scorpius Hyperion." (He calls me that all the time.) "Asking me to choose a favourite subject would imply I hold one in higher regard than the others; are they not all equal in terms of practicality? It would be simply awful of me to discriminate."

But I think he was teasing me because he later said to me that he likes Charms the best. His brother Lysander is way less weird – he's in Gryffindor and hangs around Rose (and now me). He keeps going on about travelling and exploring and going on adventures.

I was actually thinking about staying at Hogwarts for Christmas. I mean, if you want me to come home, I will – I miss you and Livia as well – but Rose and Lorcan and Lysander and Albus are staying for the holidays and apparently Christmas at Hogwarts is really good. I haven't made my mind up though.

I've written to mum already to say thanks for the gift. It was Bulgarian chocolate. I shared it with my friends and Albus.

Sorry for the late reply, by the way – I got a bit busy with school.

Love,

Scorpius

* * *

_October 28, 2017_

Dear Scorpius,

I'm glad to see you and Albus Potter are getting along. Rose Weasley sounds like the voice of reason in your little group; unsurprising, I suppose, as she seems to take after her mother in many aspects.

If you wish to remain at Hogwarts for Christmas, you may. Livia and I will miss you, but if you would like to stay with your friends instead she understands. Christmas at Hogwarts is quite the occasion, at any rate; you'll enjoy it. Until then, enjoy Halloween at Hogwarts – the decorations and feasts are very impressive.

Love,

Your father

* * *

_November 5, 2017_

Dear Dad,

I think I'm definitely staying at Hogwarts for Christmas, but I'll be home again for the next holidays, I promise! I'll have Rose for company, and Lorcan and Lysander. (And Albus Potter.)

Things have been a bit scary at school, ever since Halloween. (Halloween was really cool, by the way.) Three students in the school are in the Hospital Wing and everyone says they were poisoned! But Professor Longbottom told us in Herbology that they just got food poisoning and that they'll be fine in no time.

Love,

Scorpius

* * *

_December 2, 2017_

Dear Hugo,

How are you? I hope you are well. I am well.

Do you want to come over to my house for Christmas? There'll be lots of food and decorations and stuff and you're my friend so I think you should come over.

Love from Livia

* * *

_December 3, 2017_

dear Livia,

Im well too. I just got back from paris with my mum and dad! It was all french and stuff. The eyeful tower was kind of cool.

shure I want to come to your place for Christmas! I asked mum and dad and they were all funny about it and said they wernt shure but I like you so Im coming any way. Shud I bring food as well? im not very good at cooking tho.

love,

Hugo

* * *

_December 4, 2017_

Dear Mr Weasley and Mrs Granger-Weasley,

It has come to my attention that my daughter Livia invited Hugo to join us for Christmas. I was unaware of the initial invitation but she is very insistent, so I thought it best to make it a formal invitation and ask your permission first. We would be happy to have Hugo with us for Christmas.

If you already have prior plans or are uncomfortable with the invitation, I'm sure Livia will understand.

Regards,

Draco Malfoy

* * *

_December 4, 2017_

Dear Mr Malfoy,

I must admit, your letter came as quite a surprise. I understand that Hugo and Livia have become close friends and her invitation to him was rather sweet. Thank you for the formal invitation; unfortunately, we already have plans for Christmas, and so we must decline on Hugo's behalf.

In light of their friendship, however, we would like to instead extend our own invitation for you and Livia to join us. For Christmas Eve we are going to go on the London Eye in Muggle London. We're going to purchase tickets soon, so please let us know. Hugo would be delighted to have her.

Sincerely,

Hermione Granger-Weasley

* * *

_December 6, 2017_

Dear Mrs Granger-Weasley,

Thank you for your letter and your invitation. I asked Livia if she preferred your proposed arrangement and she was very insistent upon it. I don't know what the London Eye is and I have never been to Muggle London, thus I insist upon accompanying her. Please let me know the price of the tickets so I may reimburse you as soon as is possible.

Regards,

Draco Malfoy

* * *

_December 22, 2017_

Dear Dad,

Christmas at Hogwarts is brilliant! The decorations are incredible, even better than the ones for Halloween.

Is it true that you're actually going to Muggle London on Christmas Eve? I heard through Rose who heard from her parents. That's so cool. You have to tell me what Muggle London is like.

Merry Christmas!

Love,

Scorpius

PS: Do you know anything about something called "Flight from Death"?

* * *

_December 23, 2017_

Dear Scorpius,

I thought you'd like it. I myself only had one Christmas at Hogwarts; I usually returned home, but the one Christmas I did have at Hogwarts was rather spectacular. I'm glad you are enjoying it and spending it with your friends.

It's true that I'm going to Muggle London. It is, of course, against my better judgement and desires, but the Weasley family extended an invitation to something called the "London Eye" to Livia and myself for Christmas Eve. Of course, your sister seems to be dedicated to making me lose as much hair as I can before I hit the age of forty, so she made me accept. I suspect I shall dislike it, but Livia is excited. She'll probably tell you all about it.

Merry Christmas, son. I hope you have a good day on the 25th, and I hope you like your presents.

Love,

Your father

PS: Flight from Death was a revivalist Death Eater group that was active some years ago. Why? Has someone asked you about them?

* * *

_December 25, 2017_

Dear Scorpius,

Merry Christmas! I hope you are having a good time at Hogwarts. I spent last night in Muggle London with Hugo and his family! We went to something called the London Eye and it is really hard to explain what it is but it was really really big and we got in a small carriage thing except sort of wasn't a carriage. And it lifted us all the way up to the top of this round big thing and we could see all over Muggle London! Mrs Granger-Weasley (Hugo's mum) said it moved by something called teknologee which is like magic for Muggles I think. And then we saw fireworks! It was really pretty.

(Don't tell, but I think Daddy had a good time even though he pretended he didn't.)

Thank you for the present, it's really nice! Did you make it yourself? I hope you like my present!

Love from Livia

* * *

_January 5, 2018_

Dear Mr Malfoy,

This letter is to inform you that your son, Scorpius, has received three nights of detention with me. He and Albus Potter were found in the Restricted section of the library last night.

Regards,

Professor Flitwick, Head of Ravenclaw

* * *

_January 5, 2018_

Potter,

It seems our respective sons have received detention again. How they managed to do that only two days back into the school term is beyond me. Apparently they were found in the restricted area of the library in the middle of the night. Sound familiar?

At any rate, I'm concerned about Scorpius. Has your son asked you about the Flight from Death group? Scorpius asked me what I knew about them in his last letter but didn't tell me why he was asking.

D. Malfoy

* * *

_January 5, 2018_

Malfoy,

At least they didn't get the detentions for fighting, I suppose. And are you implying that I'm a bad influence? Don't you dare tell me it wasn't your influence and that you didn't sneak out at night, because I know you did.

Albus already knows a bit about the Flight from Death group because of my work with the Aurors. FD were neutralised ten years ago by my Auror team. There was some recent suspected revival activity last year, but that was just a false alarm. FD is still spoken of, though – Albus tells me it's a sensationalist story that travels around Hogwarts. If you're concerned that people are accusing Scorpius of having ties to the group, just bring it to Neville Longbottom's attention. Otherwise, I'm sure he's just curious.

H. Potter

* * *

_January 6, 2018_

Dear Scorpius,

I'm not exactly impressed with your ability to earn detentions with the startling frequency you seem to be collecting them with. If you must venture out at night (with Albus Potter?) then take measures to not get caught. If you aren't caught, you cannot be punished. What were you doing in the Restricted section of the library, anyway?

Love,

Your father

PS: You never replied to my last letter. Why were you asking about the Flight from Death group?

* * *

_January 7, 2018_

Dear Dad,

We  _almost_  weren't caught. We just opened a book that started screaming and then Professor Kingson who was on rounds caught us and sent us to Professor Flitwick. We weren't looking for anything in particular, we just wanted to go to the Restricted section. Honest! I'm sorry, Dad. I won't do it again. (Well, I won't get  _caught_  again.) Anyway, Rose told me off for breaking the rules already.

Love,

Scorpius

PS: No reason. I just heard other students talking about them at school.

* * *

_February 19, 2018_

Malfoy,

Not to alarm you or anything, but are you by any chance missing a daughter? Livia is hiding in the back of my shop. She seems to be okay but she won't come out. Has something happened?

R. Weasley

* * *

  
  
**Chapter 6: from the journal of draco malfoy IV**

_December 24, 2017_

So.

Muggle London.

It was… different.

Okay,  _fine_. It was  _somewhat_  enjoyable. It wasn't  _terrible_ , by any means. I mean, it was full of Muggles, but it wasn't  _bad_. Not really.

We all met up in Diagon Alley. Granger told me ahead of time to wear a shirt and pants and a coat so that I'd look like a Muggle. Bad enough, of course, but I managed to pull it off in my normal attire minus my wizard's cloak. They didn't comment on it so I suppose I must have done all right.

Granger hadn't met Livia before, but there was never any question of her liking my daughter because Livia makes  _everyone_  like her. It's the smile, I'm sure.

"Hello, Livia," Granger said. "My name is Hermione. I'm Hugo's mother."

Livia gave her the best disarming smile she has. "It's nice to meet you, Mrs Granger-Weasley!"

I make it a point to teach my children manners.

Granger smiled. "You can call me 'Hermione' if you like. I'm so glad you're here," she said, then let Livia go to chatter excitedly about Muggles with Hugo. (I swear, sometimes the only reason I know she's my daughter is because of her hair. That platinum blonde has 'Malfoy' written all over it.) "Thank you for coming. Hugo is delighted she's here."

I bowed my head. "Thank you for inviting Livia. She's very excited."

Weasley grinned at his wife, then smirked at me. "And what about you?"

"I'm chaperoning."

When they thought I wasn't looking, Weasley whispered something to Granger and she chuckled and nodded. I'm sure they were talking about me. And then it was me, my daughter, Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, and their son, in Muggle London. It was awkward.

I wonder if we're ever going to talk about our school years. This is the first time in nineteen years I've had much of anything to do with Potter and Weasley and Granger, and now it looks like I inevitably will have a lot to do with them over the next seven years, at  _least_. I can't say I'm looking forwards to any talk. Thankfully we didn't talk tonight; I let Livia be with Hugo and his parents and I walked behind them trying to avoid eye contact with the Muggles. (Not that they'd have noticed me; a lot of them had these white things with cables in their ears. Eyepods, Granger calls them. Why they're called that, I've no idea, because as far as I could see they didn't have anything to do with eyes. Wouldn't Earpods be more accurate? Muggles are ridiculous.) I doubted Weasley or Granger were keen on my presence or had anything in particular to say to me.

Muggle London, at any rate, is very different to the Wizarding world. It's very metal, for one thing. I've never been there before. I'm not sure what I was expecting. I always thought Muggles were primitive, and still walked around in villages like it was the Medieval period or something. There are cars  _everywhere_ , and people were talking into small things. Granger says that the Wizarding world, in comparison, looks like it was frozen in time during the Victorian era; while we had magic and stopped developing (not that we need to because magic does almost everything we need it to do), the Muggles kept on advancing to make up for the magic they don't have.

I'm still a bit dubious about that, though.

It's hard to explain what the London Eye was. It was this really, really big round  _thing_  with carriages on it and it goes around in a circle and… I sound stupid. Granger said it's a ferris wheel? It's apparently one of the most popular tourist attractions in Muggle Europe. Admittedly, I can see why.

"This is safe, isn't it?" I murmured when we were halfway up. I'm still not sure how it was moving without magic.

"Of course it is," Weasley said. "I've been on this four times already."

The view was quite beautiful, I admit. Very beautiful. Muggle London is  _massive_. Livia loved it, I could tell. She had her nose pressed up against the glass and kept on asking Hugo questions and holding his hand. That, I confess, was adorable.

That doesn't mean I don't think red clashes horribly with platinum blonde. Because it does.

"It's nice that they're friends," Granger said to me.

"Mmm."

Granger, dare I say, looked smug. I changed the subject.

"So this is like… flying?" I asked. "But for Muggles?"

Granger laughed. "No. This is just for fun." She looked up and pointed out of the window at something in the sky. " _That_  is flying for Muggles."

"And what is  _that_?"

"That's an aeroplane. Muggles can't ride on broomsticks or Apparate but they need some way to travel all over the world. So years ago they started to construct large metal… ships, if you will, which are capable of flying. They sit inside it."

I pointed at the thing in the sky. It looked like a bird. "That's metal."

"Yes. It's a lot bigger than it looks from here."

I squinted at the aeroplane. "How does it fly if it's metal and they don't have magic?"

"Technology. I don't know the specifics, unfortunately – that was never my forte. But aeroplanes are capable of carrying hundreds of people all at once for thousands of miles, up in the sky, all over the world."

"But…"

It still doesn't make sense. I concede it is  _somewhat_  impressive.

We stayed in Muggle London until night fell. It was cold by that stage, but Granger wouldn't let me cast a warming charm because of how close we were to Muggles. They have something called indoor heating, though, which is like a warming charm but without magic. It's sort of, well, not  _amazing_  that they can do what we can without magic. It's  _interesting_ , maybe. Not  _amazing_.

Anyway.

At the end of the night, I thanked Weasley and Granger again. They seemed amused for some reason, if not downright triumphant that they managed to drag Draco Malfoy to Muggle London for an evening. It'll be the gossip of next week, I can tell.

As for Livia:

"Daddy, can we come again sometime? Please?"

"I – what?"

"Please please  _please_?"

"Oka- wait, what? No! I mean –"

"You said okay! You have to take me again, Daddy, you said okay!"

"No I didn't! Livia –"

So now I'm going to end up travelling to Muggle London again in the foreseeable future.  _How_  I get myself into these things, I have no idea…

It wasn't too bad, I suppose.

_Later_

I liked the fireworks.

* * *

_January 7, 2018_

I'm concerned about Scorpius. What is he asking about the Flight from Death movement for? If other students are accusing him or me about having ties with the group, I'll have no choice but to write to Flitwick and ask him to keep an eye on Scorpius. Scorpius will hate that but I don't want him targeted because of my own past. I never had ties with the Flight from Death group; they were underground and didn't seek me out, thank Merlin. I think because at the very end my family walked away from the Dark Lord? At any rate, it troubles me. If Potter says they're gone, though, I think it'll be okay.

At least Scorpius has Rose Weasley. And the Scamander brothers, if his letters are to go by. And Albus Potter now? That's a surprise. Speaking of, what were they  _doing_  in the Restricted section of the library? Just in there because he wanted to go, my arse. They were up to no good, obviously – I just hope  _they_ know what they're doing.

_Later_

I don't believe this. I can't find my wand again. This is the eighth time in two months it's gone missing! I hope I'm not going senile.

_Later again_

The guest bathroom. What in the name of Slytherin was it doing in the guest bathroom?

_January 13, 2018_

I heard from Weasley that apparently a few more kids have been sent to the Hospital Wing due to food poisoning. Which is ridiculous, mind you – Hogwarts food does not give people food poisoning. Although I heard from Theodore Nott that he's started to send food packages to his children, just in case. Maybe I should do something similar for Scorpius? Until this food poisoning thing passes, I'm not sure I'm keen on him eating beef. There was that Mad Cow thing that the Muggles had in the 90s and some Wizarding households were affected. Hopefully it isn't that.

I'll tell him not to eat the meat.

_January 26, 2018_

I think it must be the House Elves who keep moving my wand. I told Rinnie to stop touching it. She says they weren't, but it's all very suspicious. I shall have to keep a closer eye on her and the others.

_Later_

Speaking of the House Elves, I might have to give them a higher wage now that Granger seems to be part of my social circle. And I never thought I'd say that.

_February 15, 2018_

I'm not freaking out. I'm not freaking out. I'm  _not freaking out_.

_Later_

I took Livia to Hogwarts today. I just went in to speak to Flitwick about Scorpius's progress at school – he's fine, by the way, very good at Transfiguration and sort of getting along with Potter's son – and I had to take Livia with me because mother is out of the country and Daphne is busy with her own children.

I left her in the hallway outside Flitwick's office. It was Hogwarts, so of course she'd be fine. I was only in there for ten minutes. I wasn't even going to see Scorpius – no kid wants their father to turn up at school to see how they are, besides, I think he was in class. I asked about the food poisoning but Flitwick says the situation is being handled. Anyway, that's not important. When I came out of the office, Livia was still waiting in the hallway and the Bloody Baron was next to her.

"…and you must be the young Malfoy girl! Livia, wasn't it?"

Livia didn't reply. She didn't even  _look_  at him.

"Well, I say! How rude. Aren't you going to answer me, girl?"

Still nothing. I was frozen where I was, and I watched as the Baron waved his hand in front of Livia's face. She just looked straight through him as though he wasn't there. Didn't react. Didn't do  _anything_.

The Baron sighed and shook his head sadly. "Terrible shame. Absolutely tragic." He caught sight of me and shook his head again. "Oh, Mr Malfoy," the Baron said. "I doubt I'll be seeing this one around these halls."

And then he floated away.

Livia just stood there, completely oblivious. When she saw me, she brightened and gave me one of her most charming smiles, then faltered when she saw my face. I wonder what I must have looked like. Death warmed up. I felt like it. Still do.

"Are you okay, Daddy?"

I managed to talk again. "Yes, I'm fine, sweetie. Come on. Let's go home."

She took my hand that certainly was not shaking and we didn't say anything. She knows something's wrong but I can't tell her, not yet. Does she know? Surely she knows.

She can't see or hear ghosts.

 _She can't see or hear ghosts_.

* * *

  
  
**Chapter 7: from the journal of draco malfoy V**

_February 16, 2018_

I couldn't sleep last night. I couldn't stop  _thinking_.

I've been denying it for too long.

She's eight years old. It's been heard of that some children don't express magical ability until a late age. But this? This is… this is too late.

_She can't see ghosts._

In a dark corner of the Malfoy crypt, ignored by generations of my family who would rather forget, there are a number of small tombs where Malfoy children have been laid to rest. I went down there once, when I was nineteen, a year after the War. As it turned out I had a brother. An older one. He died a few months after I was born, and my parents never told me. When I asked them after finding his grave – Orion Malfoy, his name was – they told me he died from a fall down the stairs. Six years old.

Falling down the stairs –  _bullshit_. I fell down the stairs at the age of four and came out uninjured; not only because my accidental magic cushioned the fall, but also because of the  _permanent charms_  my  _grandfather_  put on the staircase decades earlier to  _prevent_  such a thing happening. There's only one reason why a Malfoy child would die from a "fall down the stairs" at the age of six, and it's something that Malfoys just aren't supposed to talk about because Malfoys aren't supposed to be Squibs.

I saw Livia today. All those times my wand was going missing? I wasn't misplacing it and it wasn't the House Elves moving it, Livia was  _taking_ it. She's probably been doing this months. I found her in the corner of the old, unused drawing room, hidden in the shadows, face tense with tears and fear and desperation. She was shouting "Lumos!" over and over again.

Nothing happened.

She started crying but I didn't go in. She didn't know I was there but still, I left her alone, crying, because  _I don't know what to do_.

Scorpius could produce a proper Lumos charm by the age of five. Livia hasn't shown  _any_  signs of accidental magic. I thought maybe she was just a late bloomer, but she can't see ghosts. I can't ignore this anymore.

_Later_

I went back to Hogwarts just now and made the Headmaster show me the list of future students.

She's not on it.

Oh, Merlin. Livia.

I don't know what to do.

_Later again_

I wish Astoria were here.

_Later again_

No, I don't. I don't even know what she'd say to Livia. I don't know what she'd do. She hates Squibs.

I just want someone to talk to.

_Later again_

I can't disown her. She's  _eight_.

She's my  _daughter_.

Merlin, I can't  _think_. I want to ask mother what to do but I already know what she and my father did with the last Malfoy Squib and I am  _not_ doing that to Livia, I feel sick just thinking about it. I swore to myself that I wouldn't be like my father. I swore that I'd love my kids no matter what, and –

_[rest of the entry unintelligible; ink ruined by tears]_

_February 17, 2018_

I was up all night researching. Just got back from the Ministry of Magic. There's something called the Society for the Support of Squibs but it mostly seems to be made up of a dozen or so middle-aged Squibs who sit in a circle and talk about themselves.

There was a pamphlet though, which I'm sticking in this journal.

* * *

_**SO YOUR CHILD IS A SQUIB!** _

_**What is a Squib?** _

_A Squib is a non-magical person with two magical parents. They are very rare._

_**Can my child ever learn magic?** _

_Unfortunately not, but they are capable of brewing some easy potions!_

_**Can my child go to Hogwarts?** _

_Hogwarts does not accept non-magical children. They can be accepted as janitorial staff at Hogwarts upon reaching the legal age of an adult (17 in the Wizarding world, 18 in the Muggle world). They can also be accepted as a member of staff, such as a Muggle Studies teacher!_

_**What are the options for my child?** _

_There are plenty of options for a Squib in the magical world! Education and career opportunities lie in the Muggle world, but in the magical world Squibs can become secretaries, or cleaning staff, or if they're really ambitious, a Muggle Studies specialist, or more!_

* * *

Merlin's saggy left testicle, what complete and utter  _tripe_.

* * *

_February 18, 2018_

Screw this. I'm going to talk to Granger.

_Later_

I wasn't kidding. I, Draco Malfoy, went to Hermione Granger-Weasley for help.

That was a few hours ago. I'm back home now, and it's not really the 18th anymore, it's the 19th (well past 1 a.m.). But, whatever. The point is, I went to her for help. Survival skills, I have them.

"I need to talk to you," I said when she opened the door. I could have been politer, I suppose. She was in her nightgown and her hair looked like a rat's nest (nothing new there). I must have woken her up.

"Malfoy?" She blinked. "It's almost midnight."

"I know, I'm sorry, it's just – it's urgent. Please." I would have stooped to begging if that was what it would have taken. I'm not an idiot. I know what I did to her during school. I know what I was like. Granger has the memory of an elephant. We might have been playing nice before because of the kids, but I needed her help and I couldn't let her turn me away. Begging was not beneath me for this. Livia is worth it.

Granger rubbed her eyes. "Mmph. What's this about?"

"It's about Livia."

Granger likes Livia. I know she does, because she wouldn't stop smiling at her with Hugo on the London Eye. Granger forced herself to be a little more awake. "Come in." She stood aside and led into the house. "What about Livia? Is she all right?"

"No. I mean, yes, but, no – I mean –" I remember I choked and buried my face in my hands. "I don't know what to do."

"You don't know what to do about what? Malfoy, you're not making any sense. Sit down." She forced me into a chair. What is it about Weasleys and forcing me into sitting down? "I'll make some tea."

So I sat and didn't hyperventilate and waited for her to come back.

It was a nice cup of tea. She made me drink it before talking. I must have looked like I was on the edge of a nervous breakdown. I felt like it.

"Ron's asleep," she said while filling my cup again. "Nothing short of an earthquake could wake him up now."

"Oh."

She sipped her tea. "All right. Livia. What's wrong?"

"She's a Squib."

I guess I could have been more tactful about blurting that out, but frankly I think I was dealing with this quite well, considering. You know, realising my daughter is a Squib and drinking tea with Hermione Granger in a Weasley household at midnight. It's not every day I can write that sentence.

Granger frowned. "How do you know she's non-magical? Maybe she's just late in expressing magical ability –"

"She can't see ghosts. She's been stealing my wand over the past few months and practicing with it. Nothing happens when she tries. I saw her a few nights ago." I wiped my eyes, not that I was concerned about crying in front of Granger. Bit late for that and all. "I checked with Hogwarts. She's not on the list of future students."

"All right. So she's non-magical." She sipped her tea. Calmly. How was it possible for her to be  _calm_? "Have you talked to her already?"

"No."

She looked at me warily. "What do you plan on doing with her?"

"I don't know! It's not as though she can go to Hogwarts! And that stupid pamphlet I looked at basically said she can be a janitor if she wants to stay in the Wizarding world." I choked into my cup of tea. It was very refined.

"I know the Blacks disowned any Squibs in their family."

"Malfoys didn't disown Squib children," I said. I'm sure I sounded bitter. Granger looked confused, so I elaborated, "They all tragically fell down staircases."

I probably could have expressed it in a more discreet manner, in hindsight. Maybe even not said it at all. Because that was  _murder_ , what I told her about. My family has been murdering non-magical children for generations. My own  _parents_  killed a child because he didn't express magical ability. They acted ashamed when I asked them about Orion, all those years ago. I have to wonder if they were ashamed that they had a Squib for a child or ashamed they killed a child. I mean, they never outright admitted what they did, but it was obvious. I hope, beyond everything, that they were ashamed they killed him. My father did terrible things, I know, but this is all hitting me really hard right now and I'm not sure what to think. Because I was originally the spare child. That's how it used to work in those days; an heir and a spare. Orion Malfoy was the original Malfoy heir, the child my parents would have pinned all their hopes on and doted upon and loved. I was the spare in case he didn't turn out the way they wanted him to. And he didn't, did he? So they murdered him, because of social status, because of shame, because of the Dark Lord, I don't know. I became the heir instead.

If I didn't show magical abilities, I'd have gone exactly the same way. Because father could get away with that, in the past. They all could. And no-one said anything because even the bloody Ministry looked down on Squibs and  _continue_  to. Did anyone care that Orion Malfoy died suddenly and suspiciously? Or did everyone know he was a Squib, which made it okay for no-one to talk about him and made it okay for them to pretend the Malfoy heir died tragically instead of living as a disowned Malfoy Squib, forever bringing shame upon the family?

Granger pressed a hand to her mouth in horror. Don't blame her, really.

"Why did you come here, Draco?" she whispered.

"For  _help_!" I cried. "I'm not about to push her down a staircase, she's my  _daughter_ , but I don't know what to do!" Except I think it came out more like "I d-don't know what – _sob_ – to  _dooo_." I'm eloquent that way.

She stared at me, and I stared at her. And then she hugged me.

And. Well. I let her.

When she pulled back, she smiled at me. "You look awful, Malfoy."

"Thanks."

"When did you last sleep?"

"…Um." Looking back through the entries, I don't think I've slept since the 14th.

"If you have to think about it then it's been too long. Go home and get some rest, Draco."

She gazed at me with sympathy. And, okay.  _Fine_. Yes, it felt nice to have her sympathy and understanding because Merlin knows neither Livia nor I will get much of it from other wizards. And it's not as though I even deserve  _hers_.

She's a better person than I am.

"We can talk again tomorrow, all right?"

Which was fair enough. We're going to talk tomorrow afternoon (technically  _today's_  afternoon) and she's going to get some information on Muggle schools or something. The point is, I'm not  _alone_ , and neither is Livia.

I'm going to sleep now. It's well after 2 a.m. and it's now the 19th, and I'm not going to help anything, least of all Livia, by staying up more.

_Later again_

I lied. Not on purpose. I just still can't sleep.

I have to write this down for posterity's sake. There  _will_  be a future in the Wizarding world for Livia, even if it's the last damn thing I do. I've had to adjust my whole life around this society to accept Muggleborns and Gryffindors and Merlin knows what else. How dare they turn around and say that the only thing my daughter – my Malfoy,  _Pureblood_  daughter – can only amount to is a janitor? If I can alter my life to fit them, then the bloody Wizarding world can accept my daughter as a Squib.

I'll fucking  _make_  them do it if they don't.

* * *

_February 19, 2018_

Never thought I'd say this, but thank Merlin for Weasley.

To clarify: I overslept this morning, making up for lost sleep this week. When I woke up I went in search of Livia with every intention of sitting her down to talk. Except she was nowhere in sight and wouldn't answer me when I called her name. I called for the House Elf instead.

"Rinnie! Have you seen Livia?"

"M-Mistress Livia has gone, sir," she stammered.

"What do you mean  _gone_?"

The House Elf cowered. "Mistress Livia is getting up early these mornings, sir. She is borrowing your wand sometimes, sir, from your office. She is upset, Mistress Livia is! She is running away before Rinnie can stop her."

My office, where I left this journal and that forsaken pamphlet in  _plain sight_.

I've done stupid things in the past. This would be near the top of the list when it comes to me being a really bad and stupid parent.

Livia's smart. More than smart – she's brilliant. I mightn't have ever told her about the brother I could have had growing up, or the other 'shameful' Malfoy children in the cold forgotten corner of the family crypt, but I have no doubt she knows. She knows every inch of the house, so why shouldn't she have seen the crypt? She's well read. She knows who I was, and who my parents were. She knows what happens to Squibs. She knows the Malfoy family history. Or if she didn't know before then she certainly knows now because I'm a stupid idiot who can't put things away.

I hope she also knows I would never,  _ever_ , throw her down a staircase, or disown her. She's smart, but she's also a scared eight-year-old girl whose mother left only a few months ago because she couldn't handle being a mother anymore. I'm all Livia  _has_. She ran because she was frightened. I hope I didn't done that to her, make her feel afraid of me.

Anyway. Before I could panic, I got an owl and a letter from Weasley. I'll say what I will about his vocabulary and the colour of his hair; he had amazing timing. I went by Floo. I don't think I could have Disapparated. The way I was, I probably would have left an arm behind.

"She's in the back," Weasley said quietly when I entered his junk shop. He grabbed my arm. "Hey. What's happened?"

"It's complicated." I rubbed my eyes. "Thanks for letting me know she's here."

"S'okay. Malfoy –"

"Later," I said, and I went into the back room. True to Weasley's word, Livia was in the back, sitting on the floor with her back to the wall, and hugging her knees. She didn't look up when I entered, and she didn't say anything either. I sat down next to her and waited.

"I'm not going to Hogwarts, am I," she said eventually.

"I don't think so, Livia."

She shook. "I'm sorry, Daddy," she whispered, and hugged her knees tighter.

I put my arm around her shoulders and held her close. I'm not ashamed to admit I was crying. "It's not your fault, sweetie."

She started crying as well.

"Hey.  _Hey_." She wouldn't look at me. "You're still my little girl, okay? Look at me, Livia. Okay? You're my daughter and I love you."

"Even though I'm a –"

"Even though. I don't care. You know I love you, right?"

I meant it.  _I meant it_. I meant every single damn word I said to her, a hundred times over. I held her as she sobbed. It felt like hours but I'm sure it was just minutes.

"I spoke to Mrs Granger-Weasley last night," I said when she calmed down. "She said she'd help out."

Livia wiped her nose on her sleeve. (And I  _know_  she has a handkerchief.) "Help out how?"

"I don't know. Probably with finding a Muggle school. That sort of stuff." I dropped a kiss on her forehead then stood up and held out a hand. "Come on."

She looked up at me. "Where are we going?"

I shrugged. "To get some ice cream?"

She took my hand and I helped her up. "It's a bit cold for ice cream."

"All right, then. Hot chocolate?"

Weasley didn't say anything to us on our way out, but the look he gave me told me that he knew what was going now. I guess Granger must have told him via Floo. I nodded once, and took Livia to a small cafe in Diagon Alley for hot chocolate. We didn't talk much.

It's afternoon now. She's getting changed and ready to meet with Granger as I write this.

While I'm waiting…

I was frightened, these last few days.

I always swore to myself that I'd love my kids no matter what. I never considered the possibility that one might be non-magical. I mean, yes, I think I suspected before about Livia, but when I realised for sure Livia doesn't have magic… I was terrified for a moment that maybe I really was like my father. That I wouldn't love her. But I'm really not my father, am I?

I don't doubt my father loved me, but I think he loved me because I was magical and could be a Malfoy heir, not because I was his son. At least, at the start. I think he loved me as son after the War. Too little, too late, for Orion. But that was who Lucius Malfoy was. I loved him, but it doesn't mean I have to be like him.

I love Livia because she's my daughter.

Livia Malfoy is a Squib. But she's still my Pureblooded, cunning, Slytherin Malfoy daughter. Magic or no magic.

* * *

  
  
**Chapter 8: correspondence III**

_February 21, 2018_

Dear Draco,

I hope you found the booklets I gave you helpful. If you plan to let Livia begin Muggle education in the new school year, she will need to catch up on the present curriculum.

Your cover story is to be that she's been home schooled her whole life, but since you and Astoria divorced you need more time to work and earn money to provide for your children's educations. I've enclosed in the attached parcel some Muggle exercise books to help her get up to speed on Muggle education. If she needs help, you can contact me.

We didn't speak much about it last time, but I'll warn you that now you'll be coming into contact with Muggles on a frequent basis, you need to become acquainted with Muggle life. I'm happy to help you and Livia out with that.

Sincerely,

Hermione Granger-Weasley

* * *

_February 22, 2018_

Dear Mrs Granger-Weasley,

Thank you for the books. Livia has started one already and seems to be enjoying it, although I do wonder why Muggles think counting matchsticks helps with learning addition and multiplication.

As for becoming acquainted with Muggle life, don't think I can't see you and your husband smirking. I get the feeling you're enjoying this more than is absolutely necessary. Nevertheless, Livia and I accept your help and duly thank you.

Regards,

Draco Malfoy

* * *

_February 23, 2018_

Dear Dad,

Is it true? That Livia's a Squib, I mean? Why didn't you tell me? I had to hear from Albus Potter who heard it from Lorcan who heard it from Lysander who heard it from Orlando Nott who heard it from the older Slytherins who heard it from the Bloody Baron. Now the whole school is talking about it!

Scorpius

* * *

_February 24, 2018_

Dear Scorpius,

Yes, it's true, although we prefer to use the term 'non-magical'. I apologise I didn't tell you earlier – things have been a little chaotic lately, as I'm sure you've guessed.

I don't remember the Bloody Baron being quite so loud-mouthed about things. I had hoped for Livia's condition to be kept private, at least for the meantime. I'm hoping that Livia will have you full support, Scorpius – she's very upset that she won't be attending Hogwarts. Rose's mother has agreed to help us find a Muggle school for her to attend instead. If you have the time, please write to your sister.

Love,

Your father

* * *

_February 25, 2018_

Dear Livia,

I heard about you being non-magical. Sucks and all, I guess. But, you know, you're still my little sister and I still love you and everything. Write to me anytime, okay?

Love,

Scorpius

* * *

_March 3, 2018_

dear Livia,

mum and dad say you won't go to Hogwarts because your a muggle. I'm sorry you arent coming. I wanted to be in the same house as you, maybe Gryffindoor or Slytherin. But muggles are funny and mum says there really smart so I guess you will have fun.

do you want to come to my place next week to play?

from Hugo

* * *

_March 4, 2018_

Dear Hugo,

I wanted to be in the same House as you too but I don't think you're much of a Slytherin and I am not much of a Gryffindor. Maybe we could have been in Ravenclaw together though, like Scorpius and Albus. That would have been cool.

Daddy's looking at Muggle schools now so that I can start in September. I promise to tell you all about it!

I asked Daddy and he said maybe this time you should come over because last time you took me to the London Eye which was heaps of fun. So he is writing to your mum and dad now.

Love from Livia

* * *

_March 5, 2018_

Dear Mr Weasley and Mrs Granger-Weasley,

It seems that your son and my daughter have been arranging play dates again without our knowledge. They seem determined to spend more time together. What do you suggest?

Regards,

Draco Malfoy

* * *

_March 6, 2018_

Dear Draco,

Oh, those children. I think this might be an excellent opportunity to introduce you and your daughter properly to the Muggle world. How does this weekend work out for you? We needn't jump into finding a school straight away. Perhaps a tour around Muggle London? I'm sure Livia will enjoy it, and Hugo is looking forward to seeing her again. If this weekend works out for you, how about we all meet up in Diagon Alley on Saturday morning? The five of us can make another day out of it.

Sincerely,

Hermione Granger-Weasley

* * *

_March 8, 2018_

Dear Mrs Granger-Weasley,

This weekend shall suffice. Livia is looking forward to it.

Regards,

Draco Malfoy

* * *

_March 29, 2018_

Dear Astoria,

I'm not sure if you've heard the news yet, but if you haven't, our daughter is non-magical. She could really use your support right now. I know you're busy doing whatever it is you're doing with Krum, but even if you just send a letter to her to say you love her or something, I would really appreciate it.

Draco

* * *

_April 7, 2018_

Astoria, did you get my last letter?

Draco

* * *

_April 15, 2018_

Draco,

I've known she was a Squib since it hit the gossip vines a few weeks ago. As far as I'm concerned, no child of mine is a Squib. Send her to a Muggle school and be done with it. If you want financial support (which I know you don't), fine, but don't expect me to appear in public with her.

Astoria

* * *

_April 16, 2018_

You absolute bloody  _bitch._

_[not sent]_

* * *

_April 16, 2018_

Astoria, you selfish cow, I hope you rot in Bulgaria –

_[not sent]_

* * *

_April 16, 2018_

Krum will get tired of you, you know. And when he does, don't you dare even  _think_  about crawling back to me, you –

_[not sent]_

* * *

April 19, 2018

Not to worry. I wouldn't let my daughter appear with  _you_  in public anyway. Have a nice life, Astoria.

Draco Malfoy

* * *

_May 2, 2018_

Dad,

People are saying Mum disowned Livia. I wrote to her about it but she didn't say anything about it. Is it true?

Also, the food poisoning is getting worse. Twelve kids are in the hospital wing now and they've been there for weeks and they aren't getting better! Dad, what if it isn't food poisoning? I'm worried and the teachers don't seem to be doing anything.

Scorpius

* * *

_May 4, 2018_

Dear Scorpius,

Don't worry about your mother. Livia is still a Malfoy and as far as I'm concerned that is all anyone needs to know. She has our surname, not your mother's, and that's what matters.

I have faith in the Hogwarts system. If it were anything other than the occasional food poisoning, the Headmaster would have issued a warning or would have sent the children home. I know you've probably heard all the stories about the Dark Lord and Basilisks and escaped prisoners, but I promise you that those belonged to a darker time. Don't go around looking for danger where there isn't any danger. Just keep your head down and focus on your schoolwork. If anything is going on, you let the teachers deal with it.

I've enclosed a food package with this letter. It's just simple, non-perishable food, but keep a freezing charm on them anyway. Otherwise, my advice is to not eat the meat served at dinner.

Take care, Scorpius.

Love,

Your father

PS: Is anyone giving you a hard time about Livia?

* * *

_May 7, 2018_

Dear Dad,

Thanks for the package. Lorcan and Lysander have received food packages as well, and so have Rose and Albus (and his brother James). I've stopped eating the meat at dinner and so have a lot of other students, but kids are still getting sick. I've heard that the Ministry is calling for an inquisition! Will you be part of it, Dad? James Potter says that it'll just be really boring, though – a bunch of old stuffy Ministry wizards and Board Governors checking the conditions of the kitchens. Not that you're old and stuffy.

Love,

Scorpius

PS: Well, a couple of the older Slytherins were, like Jacob Flint, but earlier this week they all ended up in the Hospital Wing because their lips were sealed shut.

* * *

_May 9, 2018_

Dear Scorpius,

Yes, I'll be part of the inquiry team. We're coming down to Hogwarts next week to investigate the kitchens and oversee the cooking. You'll be in class during that time.

You're welcome for the food package. I'm sending you another with this letter.

Love,

Your father

PS: How convenient.

* * *

_May 10, 2018_

Potter,

Have you heard anything about your son regarding the food poisoning situation at Hogwarts? It's starting to sound a bit suspicious, especially since it's been going on this long.

D. Malfoy

* * *

_May 11, 2018_

Malfoy,

Albus hasn't said much about the food poisoning but he did recently write home and asked if he could borrow my Invisibility Cloak. Ginny wrote and told him no and I asked what he needed it for, but he wouldn't tell me. I have a sneaking suspicion that our respective sons (along with Rose and the Scamander twins) are up to no good. I've asked James to keep an eye on them.

I don't know anything about the food poisoning other than that a few parents have started sending food packages. I sent both my sons food packages as well, just in case. I spoke to Neville the other day but he seems to have caught a bit of the food poisoning himself. He did said the situation was under control though, but there'll still be a Ministry enquiry. I'll be there, of course, as the Auror representative, but it's mostly for show. You're part of the Board of Governors, aren't you?

H. Potter

* * *

**HEALTH AND SAFETY ASSESSMENT OF HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY: FOOD AND KITCHENS**

_14/05/2018_

By Order of the Ministry of Magic

Sanctioned by Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic

Conducted by the Ministry of Magic's Health and Safety Department and the Hogwarts Board of Governors

Attended by Head of the Auror Office, Harry Potter (representative)

Report:

On the morning of the Fourteenth day of the Fifth month of the year Two-Thousand-and-Eighteen (14 May 2018), a team of representatives and skilled Ministry officials from the Health and Safety Department, alongside several Lords and officials from the Hogwarts Board of Governors and the Head of the Auror Office Harry Potter, arrived at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to investigate claims of food poisoning.

After a thorough investigation of the kitchens and food supplies, the Board of Governors and the Health and Safety Department have unanimously deemed the cleanliness of the Hogwarts kitchens to be satisfactory. Head Auror Harry Potter concurs.

Hogwarts nurse, Madam Ellen du Lac (employed 2016; experienced Healer from St Mungo's, employed for 28 years before taking over from Madam Pomfrey, former Hogwarts nurse) gives her statement:

"It is my opinion that the majority students in the Hospital Wing due to so-called 'food poisoning' are in fact suffering from hysterical maladies. It isn't uncommon; one child falls ill, and others panic and their bodies mimic the symptoms. The initial cases of food poisoning happened to three young students who were unfamiliar with and/or allergic to the food served at Hogwarts and simply happened to fall ill."

When asked why the students where bedridden for such an extended period, Madam du Lac replied, "Hysterical illness or not, they are still ill and shall remain in my care."

The Health and Safety Department and the Board of Governors agreed with Madame du Lac's assessment. Head Auror Harry Potter concurred.

Let the record show that in September of 2017, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had a minor incident of contaminated potions supplies. Katerina Kingson, Professor of Potions (employed 2016) states:

"The contamination was a mere side-effect of the rosemary being placed too close to another plant in the Greenhouses. It reacted badly with the potion it was being used in and caused a minor explosion. The only person injured in the class was myself. The situation was dealt with swiftly and accordingly. There have been no further incidents."

Professor Kingson is in charge of preparing potions for the students in the Hospital Wing.

Suggested course of action:

Cut out all meats from the meals served to students to prevent further hysterical maladies. Ensure that members of staff oversee the House Elves preparing meals every day. Should the cases of food poisoning (or hysterical maladies) persist, another assessment of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will be ordered by the Ministry of Magic.

Let the record show that the Ministry of Magic has declared Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry kitchen conditions and food safe.

* * *

_May 18, 2018_

Malfoy,

Did you get the copy of the report? I certainly did not 'concur' with du Lac. What happened to Madam Pomfrey, anyway?

H. Potter

* * *

_May 20, 2018_

Potter –

Firstly, your owl is an evil lunatic.

Secondly, yes, I did get a copy of the report. It's all typical Ministry talk. Shouldn't you be used to it by now, O High and Mighty Head Auror?

As for Madam Pomfrey, apparently she won the lottery.

D. Malfoy

* * *

_May 21, 2018_

Malfoy –

This evil lunatic of an owl isn't mine, he's Albus's. His name's Crowley and he's a right pain in the ass. The things I do for my kids. No, I'm not used to Ministry jargon – I thought that was more to your personal taste.

Er. Malfoy. There  _is_  no lottery.

H. Potter

* * *

_May 22, 2018_

Potter.

For the Head Auror, you're extraordinarily thick. Of course there's no lottery, you dolt. Go investigate. Isn't that what you Aurors are supposed to do?

Malfoy

* * *

_May 28, 2018_

Dear Mr Malfoy,

I regret to inform you that your son Scorpius Malfoy was involved in an altercation with Albus Potter earlier today. From what is understood from they eyewitness account given by Rose Weasley, your son hit Albus Potter with an Expelliarmus charm during an argument and rendered him unconscious. Young Mister Potter is now in the Hospital Wing. Your presence is not required; however, please be advised that Scorpius is to receive two weeks' worth of detention with myself.

Regards,

Professor Filius Flitwick, Head of Ravenclaw

* * *

_May 28, 2018_

Scorpius,

I received a letter today from Professor Flitwick, and I know you know what it was about. I was under the impression that you and Albus Potter were getting along now. Was I mistaken in this assumption? What on earth did you put him in the Hospital Wing  _for_? And so close to your exams? I sincerely hope that your actions are  _extremely_  justified, Scorpius, because Merlin knows I'm disappointed and busy enough as it is. The only reason I'm not coming into Hogwarts today to speak to you is because I have to take Livia to Muggle London to look at a school. I'll be coming in at the end of this week, young man. I'm expecting a proper explanation.

Your father

* * *

_May 29, 2018_

Dear Dad,

It was justified.

Scorpius

* * *

_May 30, 2018_

Scorpius, that is not an answer!

* * *

_May 31, 2018_

Malfoy,

We've got problems, and I don't just mean the kids. Get down to the school now.

H. Potter

* * *

  
  
**Chapter 9: from the journal of draco malfoy VI**

_March 13, 2018_

Muggle London is many things, but it certainly isn't  _quiet_. The headache I have, I'm sure, will stay for at least a week. The population is, frankly, astounding. I never really realised before just how much Muggles outnumber Wizards. Granger says that the Magical communities of Australia and America (in some areas) are a lot more integrated with Muggles, and suggested I visit Chicago sometime and converse with the wizards there. I hope she didn't have that Dresden freak in mind.

Anyway, it's Sunday evening now. Saturday morning saw Livia and myself waiting in Diagon Alley again for the Weasley clan. I'm really having trouble pinpointing the exact moment my life took a turn in this direction, but for the time being I'm just going to blame ice cream. It seems to be a common factor in this  _thing_  I've got going on with Granger and Weasley. Livia and Hugo insisted on having ice cream for lunch. Granger is a better negotiator than I am and managed to make the kids agree to eat a real lunch before ice cream. So not only is ice cream going to make me fat, it's also tied me to the Weasley and Granger and by extension, Potter.

Which is not to say I'm unappreciative. I doubt I could have coped or done much without Granger.

Livia, at least, is utterly enamoured with the Muggle world. Me, I'm mostly confused. Like those plane things. They're  _metal_. How do they even get  _up_  into the sky? And don't get me started on this "internet" thing.

I just  _know_  Granger and Weasley were laughing at me.

Livia seems to understand most of it, though. Granger gave her a couple of history books and Muggle novels (something called  _Anne of Green Gables_  – sounds rather boring, to be honest, but Livia has almost finished the first one) to look through, and then refused to let me reimburse her. Why does Granger have to be so  _nice?_

Thank Merlin father is dead and I've sent mother to France for the next five months. Draco Malfoy, accepting help from Hermione Granger-Weasley and whose own daughter is non-magical.

Good grief. If someone told me this would happen back when I was at school, I'd have put them in the Hospital Wing myself.

* * *

_April 16, 2018_

Bloody  _fuck_.

_Later_

I'm too angry to write a proper letter back to Astoria.

Merlin, I  _hope_  Krum leaves her. I actually feel  _sorry_  for him now. Does he  _know_  what kind of woman she is? Maybe it's  _him_  who doesn't have much taste. At least Granger was  _nice_. I can only assume he's still with Astoria because of the sex. But seriously, he could have any woman he wanted – why the hell  _her?_

* * *

_April 19, 2018_

I didn't marry Astoria for love, nor did she marry me for love. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement, shall we say – I knew her in school and she was a sweet girl. Sweet. Hah. What happened? Maybe I happened. Maybe it was me who turned her into a bitch. I have a skill for bringing out the worst in other people, as well as myself. She's a Pureblood from a very old, very respected, and very proud family. I don't know why I expected any other response from her about her non-magical daughter.

This isn't to say I never felt anything for her, because I did. I really did. In some ways I still do, because I'm pathetic that way. We were married for fourteen years – that isn't something to scoff at. We had good times.

_Later_

I find myself missing Astoria sometimes. She was funny and charming and, okay, yes, the sex was utterly fantastic. (Even if my memory of it is from six years ago. Whatever.)

She was company. Sometimes she was good company and mostly bad company, but company nonetheless. It's going to be very quiet around here when Livia starts Muggle school in September.

_Later again_

Livia deserves a better mother than Astoria, anyway.

* * *

_May 9, 2018_

This food poisoning thing at Hogwarts this actually making me nervous. Maybe Scorpius is right and it isn't food poisoning at all. I know I'm not the only parent sending food packages now. It shouldn't be going on for this long.

* * *

_May 14, 2018_

The inquiry into the food poisoning situation at Hogwarts was today. As a Board Governor, the position I inherited from my father (how he managed to  _keep_  it is a little beyond me, but money buys many things, I suppose), I was required to be there. I took Livia with me as well.

That's what I'm going to do, I've decided. She's going to receive the finest Muggle education possible, learn magical theory and history at home, and appear with me publicly at every other chance we get. If I want her to have a place in this world – and she  _will_ , because she is still a Malfoy – then I think this is how I'm going to have to do it. It's already causing a bit of a stir, actually, letting people see me in public with Livia proudly by my side, despite the fact that Astoria Greengrass disowned her. I don't think that's ever been done before. No Pureblood from an old family has proudly shown off their non-magical child for all to see.

Look at me, creating scandals. I'm talented.

Anyway, Scorpius was right. It was mostly a bunch of old and stuffy Ministry officials and Board Governors gathering and 'hmm'ing and 'haw'ing while passive-aggressively taking notes. I introduced myself and Livia to them all, and they more or less coughed and flustered around a bit. Theodore Nott was there as well, as a Governor. I hadn't spoken to him since, well, ages. Not for twelve years, at least.

"…And, uh," Theodore faltered, looking down at Livia. "You brought the Squib along?"

We were friends of a sort in school, but I could have broken his nose for that comment. The Squib.  _The Squib_. That's what he called her,  _right in front of her_. I nearly pulled out my wand. I didn't need to, though, because Livia lifted her head. "I prefer the term 'non-magical'," she said, giving him her most disarming smile, "if that is agreeable with you, Lord Nott."

Hah. That's my girl.

Theodore cleared his throat and blinked, looking flustered. "Right. Of course. Pardon me, Miss Malfoy." He looked back at me. "However, I don't think it's appropriate for a child to accompany us."

"That's all right," she said, charming as can be. "I can wait in the library, with your permission, father."

I said yes. Once she was out of earshot, Nott said, "You surprise me, Draco," and then he turned away to talk to the other Governors. See if I ever talk to  _him_  again.

"You surprise me, too," Potter said behind me, and I did not, in any way at all, jump, because he didn't scare me. At all.

"Potter." I swallowed. "I think that might have been a compliment, but I'm not certain when it comes to you."

He shrugged. "It was. A compliment, a mean." He nodded after Livia. "Ron and Hermione have told me all about you and her. I've gotta say, I'm… impressed."

"I'm not doing it to impress anyone, Potter."

I'm sure I sounded ridiculously over-defensive, but Potter just nodded. "I know. It's because she's your daughter."

Potter stopped being my childhood enemy when he said that. He became a fellow father. Strange feeling, that. Him, Weasley, and Granger. I'm collecting childhood enemies as acquaintances. It's a new hobby of mine.

Anyway. I think he felt that, too, because he held out his hand.

I was instantly reminded of our first day of school, all those years ago, when I held out my hand with an offer to help him find the 'right' kind of friends. He didn't take it, and the seven years after that… well, the rest is history.

I shook his hand.

Besides. I have to play nice with all of them now. Let's see: Scorpius is best friends with Rose Weasley and Albus Potter. Livia adores Hugo Weasley and is going to go to a Muggle school. Hermione Granger-Weasley is helping me with the Muggle world.

It's like my life is some really massive  _joke_  sometimes, I swear.

"So, this food poisoning thing," I said.

"It's very suss."

"It's what?"

"Suss." Potter smirked at me. "Muggle slang for 'suspicious'. You're gonna have to get used to it, Malfoy."

Ha ha ha. Ha ha.

"I think you're enjoying yourself a little too much, Potter."

"Who, me?"

Anyway. I didn't see anything wrong with the kitchens. Potter and I ate there months ago, when Scorpius and Albus fought in September, and we were fine. The House Elves in the kitchens looked absolutely traumatised when the Health and Safety people started tearing apart the place. Good thing Granger wasn't here – we'd never have heard the end of it. Anyway, I'm not convinced the Elves have anything to do with the food poisoning because I ate at Hogwarts for seven years and didn't fall ill  _once_  from the food.

And don't get me  _started_  on Madam du Lac. Madam Pomfrey was many things (I recall quite a few slaps to the back of my head) but she wasn't what one would call  _creepy_.

I don't remember the teachers and students being quite so lethargic or passive, either, especially not Longbottom. He walked right past Potter in some sort of daze, as if he didn't even notice him, and didn't stop until Potter actually spoke to him.

"Neville, how are you?"

"Hmm?" he said, and blinked a lot. "Oh, me? Fine, Harry, just fine. Thank you."

I know Longbottom could be a buffoon, but that was ridiculous, even for him. Potter seemed to be thinking the same thing because he grabbed Longbottom's arm before he could collapse. "Neville? What's wrong?"

Longbottom shook his head. "Wrong? Nothing's wrong, I'm fine. Bit of food poisoning, but I'm all right. Yes, yes, I'm quite fine. Professor Kingson is making me potions to make me feel better. Yes…"

And then he wandered off.

"Er," Potter said. I think it was about that time (well after the Board Governors and Ministry people left) that I noticed that some, if not most, students were all walking really slowly and not talking much. Aren't kids supposed to be hysterical when things like this happen? What about du Lac's "hysteria" assessment? These kids didn't look very hysterical to me. They looked passive. I have to say, I really didn't like it.

I asked a passing older student if they knew what happened to Madam Pomfrey and they said she won the lottery.

Mmm. Right.

* * *

_May 22, 2018_

I always knew Potter wasn't exactly the  _sharpest_  knife in the drawer, but  _Merlin's saggy left testicle_ , he can be slow. He's the Head Auror, for crying out loud.

"Er. Malfoy. There  _is_  no lottery."

Yeah, no shit. Something's going on at Hogwarts and I don't like it. It's just like Potter's son to drag mine into conspiracy theories and dangerous adventures. And I can't exactly do anything either – I'm going to be busy with Livia next week finding a school. Actually, we might have found one (with Granger's help) – a nice private girls' school in the Muggle country. Ravenswood Girls' College, it's called, in Pembury. There's a "prep" school and a "senior" school and the option for boarding. So I guess we'll see.

I'm not sure how I feel about letting Livia board when she's still so young. She'll be away from home for a long time, in the Muggle world.

But back to Hogwarts – I think Potter and Weasley are investigating du Lac now, because there is definitely something up with that woman.

* * *

_May 28, 2018_

I don't know what to do with my children, sometimes.

It was inevitable, I suppose. A Potter and a Malfoy, fighting. No way to avoid it.

I just want to know  _why_. I thought they were getting along.

* * *

_May 29, 2018_

Livia and I went to Muggle London again today. She says I should stop calling it that, though, in case I slip up in front of an actual Muggle. London, then. We went to London, and from there we went to visit the school we've found. Ravenswood, it's called, and it looks nice enough.

(On an off-note, the exchange rate is  _disgusting_. Why is Muggle money worth more than Wizard money? I'm going to have to set up another account in Gringotts, all Muggle money, to support Livia. Granger also said something about setting up a bank account in the Muggle world, but it sounds absurdly complicated. Why do Muggles like making things hard for themselves? Such strange creatures. I doubt I'll ever understand them.)

The cover story Granger came up with for me is decent enough, although I made a slight adjustment to it. Livia has been home schooled her whole life (technically not a lie; I've gone through a lot of magical theory with her and shall continue to do so). Ever since my divorce from Astoria, I have been finding it difficult to look after the children on my own and after a long discussion, my children and I agreed upon sending them both to boarding schools to receive the finest education possible. My son Scorpius is at a private and prestigious boarding school in Scotland, and I have heard that Ravenswood has a fine reputation and my daughter is keen on attending.

The Muggles didn't question it too much. They did ask what I did for a living, and I said I was a government official.

The Muggle woman who showed us around was nice. Marian Halcombe, I think she said her name was? She's a young woman, perhaps in her early- or mid-thirties. Very well spoken – assertive, but polite. It was her eyes, I think. Very intelligent. Brown eyes, brown hair. Not  _pretty_ , by conventional means, but she was in possession of a sense of humour: I slipped up and asked what a "laptop" was. She just laughed and asked if I'd been living under a rock all my life. "Something like that," I'd said. I think she knew there was something decidedly non-Muggle about me and Livia, but she didn't say anything. Livia liked her a lot, which is a good start because Miss Halcombe will end up being one of her teachers in the next school year.

At any rate, Ravenswood is a nice school. Not unlike Hogwarts, although considerably smaller and not quite as old. Livia seemed to love it. I guess I'll be sending her there come September, to the "prep" school, and when she reaches the age of eleven, the senior school. Enrolment is almost completed and the fees are all sorted out. I guess now it's just a matter of getting her the school uniform and various required Muggle equipment. What is a "USB drive"?

_Later_

I think I'm more nervous than Livia is. I know it's not for another few months, but  _both_  my children will be off at school next year.

This house is too damn big sometimes.

_Later again_

I wish Scorpius would stop making me worry about him. I'm a bit fond of having hair. Maybe he's doing it on purpose as an attention-seeking thing?

_Later again_

Oh, Merlin, he'll be going through puberty in a couple of years. I don't even want to  _think_  about Livia yet.

* * *

_May 31, 2018_

I don't recall Scorpius ever being so  _snide_ to me. Either he's developed an attitude problem, or something is wrong. I sincerely hope that boy knows what he's doing.

_Later_

And to make things worse, Potter's lunatic owl is on its way, I can see it out the window. I have no doubt he's furious about Scorpius putting Albus in the Hospital Wing, but what am I supposed to say or do, other than promise to give Scorpius a firm talking to? Potter strikes me as the kind of person who'd want to organise an intervention where everyone sits down and talks about their feelings or something, but there are only so many times we can lock the kids up in a room and let them fight it out. And, really, it's not as though –

_[journal entry interrupted; incomplete]_

* * *

  
  
**Chapter 10: from the journal of draco malfoy VII**

_June 2, 2018_

It's been a long two days. Strange, it feels so much longer. I should probably try to sleep soon.

I finally have a moment to sit and think, and now that I do I'm not sure that I want to. But I know I should write down what happened before the memory becomes too muddled. I've already given my statement to the Aurors but I want – no, not want,  _need_  – to record it here. My narrative skills have never been particularly wonderful, and certainly my style leaves a bit to be desired, but no-one shall ever read this. I doubt I'll look back on this entry for a long time. Maybe one day I will, when I've had sufficient time to acknowledge and deal with what happened.

When I received Potter's letter, I didn't have time to think. I ran and ordered Rinnie to stay with Livia and not let her out of her sight. Livia is at Hogwarts with me, now – after the ordeal I went home to pick her up. That sounds quaint – it didn't feel like that at all. I can hardly believe the whole thing barely took two hours.

Scorpius hasn't woken up yet.

Potter and Weasley were already at Hogwarts on the 31st – the latter sending a Patronus to the Ministry when I arrived. Potter had a letter from his son James clenched in his hand.

"I just got this letter from James this morning," Potter said. "He says that Albus and Scorpius and Rose have –"

"I thought the boys were fighting!"

"No, they set it up to get Albus into the Hospital Wing! And shut up, that isn't important. James says that they think du Lac is poisoning the students and that it isn't food poisoning at all –"

"Then were are the kids now?"

"That's what we're trying to find out," Weasley said. "Come on."

"Ellen du Lac hasn't been at St Mungo's for twenty-eight years," Potter explained as we ran – well, I say ran, I really mean jogged awkwardly – through the school. "There isn't even a real record of her! Ministry spy wizards have her picture down in the old Flight from Death files – "

"And it's just  _us three?_ " I said. "Where's your backup?

"We didn't have time. I just sent for the Aurors," Weasley said.

No backup in a school where the teachers were staggering around like they'd been Confounded and people and students were being poisoned by a revivalist wannabe Death Eater. " _Oh my god, Potter_  –"

"Shut up, Malfoy! Just come on!"

Where we were going, I didn't realise until we were halfway there: the Hospital Wing. I nearly suggested that it would make more sense to go to the Headmaster, but to be fair, Potter and Weasley had more experience with end-of-school-year-adventures than I did. In a stroke of luck, as we ran past the students who didn't seem too concerned with anything, we found Flitwick.

"Professor Flitwick?" Potter said, stopping. "What's going on? Do you know?"

"Going on?" Flitwick blinked. "I don't know what you mean, dear boy." He caught sight of me. "Oh, your son, Mr Malfoy, he's been very naughty, fighting in the corridors! But otherwise everything's just fine. He'll have to have detention, yes…"

"Er," Potter said.

I looked at him closely. "Professor Flitwick, we're going to go now."

"Very good, very good."

"I hope you don't mind, but I'm going to set fire to the school on our way out."

"I'd really rather you didn't, but if you feel you must, Mr Malfoy."

Weasley shone a Lumos into Flitwick's eyes. "He's Confounded." He looked around at the students who lethargically surged around us, not noticing anything was wrong. "They all are. This shit just got real."

The Hospital Wing didn't seem to shed much light on the situation at first. There must have been twenty children in bed, all asleep or groaning in pain with "food poisoning". du Lac was nowhere in sight, and neither was Albus Potter who was  _supposed_  to be bedridden because of Scorpius. Which according to Potter wasn't because they were fighting but rather a set up, and now days after the fact, a ploy to get Albus Potter inside Hospital Wing and find out which potions du Lac was giving the students.

The potions supply was smashed and dripped all over the floor, and stuffed into a closet was du Lac – disarmed, gagged, and bound by ropes.

"Ellen du Lac, member of the Flight from Death movement," Potter said coldy.

She struggled pathetically.

"The ropes. They're transfigured bed sheets," Weasley said, and Potter glanced at me.

"That's your son's work," he said.

"I know, but where are the kids  _now?_ "

Which led us to running for the Gryffindor tower where James Potter presumably had some more answers.

"You know," Weasley puffed as we ran, "this would have been a lot easier if you remembered to bring the Marauder's Map –"

"Well, I'm  _sorry_ , but I was a bit stressed this morning, Ron –"

"Can we maybe focus, please?" I said, except I think it came out more like, "Can we – _puff_  – maybe –  _pant_  – f-focus, please? –  _huff, pant_  –"

It's the ice cream. I need cut back on it.

James Potter was waiting outside the Gryffindor common room.

"James –" Potter said.

James choked. "I tried to stop them, Dad, I did –"

"James, what's been going on?"

"I don't know. Albus made me drink this potion last week and – and it was really strange. It was like I was waking up or something. He said it was an antidote he made –"

"Albus," Potter breathed. "He's brilliant with Potions."

"Well I should bloody hope so, with a name like Albus Severus! Would have been a bit embarrassing if he turned out to be like  _you_  at potions."

I didn't actually say that. The moment seemed rather inopportune. I'd like to say it eventually, though – it's too good a line to go unspoken.

I digress.

"Dad, the kids in the Hospital Wing! Albus says they really were poisoned, he saw du Lac's stash, and I just remembered they're all Muggleborns. They're all Muggleborns, Dad! My friend Laura is there!"

"Where have Albus and Rose and Scorpius gone? Can you tell me, James?"

"The dungeons. They went down the dungeons because they said none of the teachers were doing anything and they think Professor Kingson is behind it all – where are you going? Dad!"

"Stay here, James," Potter yelled over his shoulder.

"But, Dad –"

" _Stay here!_ "

I'm not as fit as I used to be. I'd almost forgotten just how big the school is and how much effort it takes running from one of the highest points of the castle to one of the lowest.

It was everything cliché: dark and gloomy, two cauldrons bubbling in the room, the three children cornered and a teacher pointing a wand at them.

The thing I neglected to mention about Kingson in my last journal entry (actually, neglected to mention her at all), when I met her during the inquisition, is that she was a very average kind of person. She was the kind of woman people look at and think,  _she's pretty_ , because she was. But it was a very generic kind of pretty – also the kind that people forget when they look away. Nothing about her was remarkable; her voice was not attention grabbing, the way she held herself spoke nothing, but she was not so unnoticeable that people wouldn't find it suspicious. There was nothing memorable about her at all.

She was, in all senses, the perfect infiltrator – because no-one thought about her.

When she said, "One more step and the children die," we definitely noticed her, though. It was incentive enough. We froze. "For Aurors," Kingson said, "you weren't very good at sneaking up on me."

"I was temporarily blinded by your face. Maybe you should get that looked at," Weasley said. It wasn't his best line.

In response, Kingson locked the door behind us with a flick of her wand before pressing it against Albus's neck. "Put yours wands on the floor. Now." We obeyed. " _Accio_ wands!"

Unarmed. I felt like a child again. To be fair, I'm a bit out of practice. I've been sitting in a manor for years. Potter and Weasley, though – well, I'm still convinced they have no excuse for that. Aurors, my arse.

"Scorpius, are you all right?" I said.

He nodded from his spot in the corner, beside Albus and Rose. "I'm fine. So are Rose and Al."

Potter spoke. "You drugged the school," he said to Kingson slowly. "What I don't understand is how."

Kingson smiled. "Everyone was so concerned about the kitchens. No-one was ever going to find anything there. The House Elves are clean as can be." She tilted her head to the left, observing the three of us. "It wasn't the kitchens. Confounding potions aren't poison, so they can't be detected that way. Just a bit in the water supply, to water the fruit and vegetables and herbs grown in the Greenhouses, every day all year long. Everyone kept on saying not to eat the meat, but it wasn't the meat, was it?" She laughed. "The teachers started using the fruit and vegetables from the Greenhouses to make their own meals, to avoid food poisoning. I wanted to laugh so much, just watching them become more and more docile to the point where they knew something was wrong, but couldn't think about it clearly to do anything…" Kingson scowled a little there. "Home-sent packages, though – those were a bit harder. Good thing Potions is compulsory until Sixth year."

"What about Neville? Why didn't he notice that you were dosing the food?"

"He did. So I dosed him directly. I couldn't have him going around telling people, now could I?"

See, that's the thing about would-be villains. They  _love_  exposition. They just have to Explain It All, tell us the intricacies of their plan, show off. The Dark Lord was a fan of it, but you'd think after his defeat other extremists would take lessons. I shared a glance with Potter to make sure he kept her talking.

"The Muggleborns?" Potter asked.

"That was actual poison. Filthy Mudbloods. Ellen helped me with that."

"I know. Albus found her supply." Potter walked closer. "Flight from Death isn't active."

She smiled. "Not yet. But still, I do have to kill you. Shame. You're ever so bright. Your children have already caught poor Ellen, I hear. Not to worry. I'm sure she'll understand if I send her to Azkaban to keep me at Hogwarts. It's all for the greater good."

She raised her wand.

"But to what end?" Potter asked. "I don't understand. Why Confound Hogwarts?"

"To kill the Mudbloods without suspicion."

Weasley snorted. "Yeah, good job at that. You don't honestly think you're going to get away with anything, do you?"

"But I do, Weasley. You see that cauldron over there?" She pointed to the one on the left, bubbling over a fire. "That's a Confounding potion, and its fumes are making the air very thick. Aren't you already feeling a little… confused?"

We were, by that stage. Weasley was blinking a lot, Potter shook himself, and I – I dug my fingers into my Dark Mark to wake myself up. Kingson raised her wand again.

"Wait!" Potter cried. "There's something I don't get. The explosion in Potions, at the beginning of this year? The contaminated rosemary?"

Kingson waved her hand. "A set-up. A red herring. Whatever you want to call it. If I were injured, that would make me a victim, and no-one would suspect me from then on. And it worked, didn't it?"

Weasley narrowed his eyes. "Clearly it didn't, Kingson. Did you get all chatty with du Lac and mention Flight from Death? The kids were asking about them, you know."

"We were spying on her," Albus said. "Rose put it all together. We heard her and du Lac say –"

"Shut up, Potter," Kingson hissed, rounding on the boy. "You've been a pain from the beginning, making antidotes for your friends. I ought to kill you and your little cousin first. The son of the great Harry Potter, and the daughter of Ronald Weasley and the Mudblood Hermione Granger! What a wonderful start to the rise of Flight from Death again."

"Leave them alone!" Scorpius yelled.

"But  _you_ , Scorpius Malfoy," she said swiftly, flawlessly changing between lunacy and gentleness. "I don't have to kill you. You're still of pure blood, boy. Your father," she spat, glaring at me, "might be a blood traitor, but you don't have to let the sins of the father shadow you."

It was like a sick perversion of everything I'd told him.  _You don't have to carry my sins, Scorpius_.

She touched his hair. He flinched away and she laughed, and produced a phial from her robes. "All you have to do is drink this."

"Go to hell," Scorpius spat. "I'll never drink your poison."

"Oh, Scorpius. You foolish boy. Of course I can't  _make_  you drink anything. I've never been one for the Imperius curse, unfortunately. It isn't my forte. However, this isn't the poison."

"Then what is it?"

"This? This is the antidote," Kingson said, and Scorpius's legs gave out beneath him.

"Scorpius!" Rose yelled, but then she collapsed as well, against Albus, who caught her and then promptly fell with her.

"What have you done to them?  _What have you done?_ " Weasley yelled, lunging towards them. Kingson flicked her wand and sent him flying back into the far wall. It looked nothing short of painful.

"Those insufferable children. All year they've been snooping around and sticking their noses where they  _don't – belong!_ " she spat at the children before turning and walking over to the cauldron on the right. She ran her hand around the brim of the cauldron. "This is the poison. I noticed they and their Scamander friends weren't becoming passive."

Albus groaned from the floor and she crouched beside him.

"You're good with potions, Albus – I thought you might have figured it out, and you did. So I found your stash of antidotes." She smiled. "I'm a potions master, Albus. Did you really think you could outwit  _me?_ "

Potter made a lunge for her as well, while she was distracted, but she turned on him and shot a Stunner at his chest.

"Some Auror  _you_  are!" I hissed, and he coughed and crawled to his knees. Potter explained afterwards why he wasn't knocked unconscious; as an Auror, he's required to become resistant to certain spells.  _Stupefy_  is one of them: it is capable of knocking him down, but not knocking him out. By then the fumes were affecting us a lot more anyway, though; there are a few moments there that my memory isn't clear. Kingson kept on talking, Potter kept trying to negotiate, and Weasley was fighting the effects of the Stunner he'd been hit by. Then I remember the three children groaning and convulsing on the floor, and Scorpius curled up in pain. " _D-dad, help –_ " he choked, and fell still.

I felt something snap.

"Kingson!" All of this is both sharp and blurred in my memory; it didn't really feel like  _me_. "Give it to me. Give me the antidote  _now_."

"Come now, Mr Malfoy. All you and your son have to do is swear allegiance to me and uprising the Flight from Death movement, and I'll hand it over." She smiled. "Death Eater's promise. We could help you, you know, and your Squib daughter. We could give her back her magic that was stolen by the Mudbloods. She could be a witch, like she's supposed to be – proper and Pureblooded. You were loyal once, Draco. Join us again."

I felt sick. Everything she said to me was something that once upon a time, I would have considered. But that woman – she'd threatened and poisoned my son. She was going to let him die. She'd drugged the entire school. She as good as called me a Death Eater.  _She was killing my son_.

"Do you have a Dark Mark, Katerina?" I asked.

"I was not so fortunate."

She wasn't one of the original Death Eaters. She was too young for that – too idealistic. If she'd been a real Death Eater, she'd have known that there was nothing  _fortunate_  about a Dark Mark.

"I have a Dark Mark," I said.

"All the more reason to join us, Draco."

"Katerina Kingson." I shook my head. "You've been lucky so far, you know." I remember I was struck by vertigo and swayed; the fumes from the potion were starting to affect me. No threat to her at all.

Kingson raised her eyebrows. "You don't get to where I've gotten to through  _luck_ , Mr Malfoy."

"No?" I steadied myself and paced closer to her. "Then how do you explain why you're still alive?"

She smirked. Potter and Weasley, conscious but immobile behind me, could see and hear everything. "Because even two of the most famous Aurors aren't clever enough for me."

I shook my head. "No, that's not it. That's not it at all. You see, you're lucky because those two Aurors are nice men.  _Really_  nice men. So nice that I feel physically sick sometimes. They're Aurors – not one unethical or immoral bone between them. You've been lucky. You know why?"

She was distracted by then – wary of me. Let it never be said I can't put on a good show when I want to. "Why?"

"Because unfortunately for you, Katerina Kingson," I said, " _I_  am not a nice man."

The official story is that Katerina Kingson, member of the underground Death Eater revivalist movement known as Flight from Death, found herself cornered by two Aurors and a Hogwarts Board Governor. After threatening and attempting to kill three children, and after admitting to those present (and conscious) that she and Madam Ellen du Lac – also a member of Flight from Death – were responsible for drugging the majority of Hogwarts staff and students and poisoning Muggleborn students, she realised her situation was hopeless and drank her own poison. As soon as she died, I took the antidote off her body and immediately administered it to the three unconscious children. The Aurors arrived the moment everything was over.

Like I said. Official.

* * *

_June 3, 2018_

Potter finally came to speak to me this morning.

I'm still in the alcove outside the Hospital Wing where he found me. I didn't say anything to him and he didn't say anything to me. Eventually he stood behind me and sighed.

"Do we have to talk about what happened, Malfoy?"

"I'd prefer not to."

He walked around me. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine." My throat was dry. "Men who aren't nice always feel fine in the end. That's why they aren't nice men."

He stayed silent at that, for a very long time. "I'm an Auror, you know," he said.

"I know."

Potter stared at me, long and hard. "I'm also a father," he eventually said, and he put his hand on my shoulder. "Draco?"

"What."

"You're a  _good_  man. That's better than nice."

Then he left, because I'm human enough to cry and he's good enough to let me.

* * *

_June 7, 2018_

It was my birthday two days ago and I completely forgot. Livia didn't – she sent me a birthday card, which was beautiful. She's staying with Granger at the moment – Granger insisted on it. Said that this was no place for a girl to be spending. If Livia still had a mother, maybe she could have been at home with  _one_  of her parents. But she seems happy to stay with Hugo and her redheaded heroes.

Rose and Albus woke up this morning. I hope Scorpius wakes up soon.

* * *

_June 9, 2018_

He woke up today. This morning.

I don't have words to describe how relieved I am.

_Later_

The Healer on lend from St Mungo's declared Scorpius fine. He asked to see Rose and Albus, so I brought them in a few minutes ago.

Rose punched his arm softly. " _That's_  for scaring me, you creep." Then she kissed his cheek and hugged him. "And this is for being a stupid brave idiot. Glad you're back, creep."

She pulled back and Albus sat next to him instead, looking sheepish. "Hey," Albus said.

"Hey," Scorpius replied, and they hugged.

I left the three of them alone.

* * *

_June 10, 2018_

Most of the school has been given antidotes to the Confounding potions du Lac and Kingson were dosing them with, and  _now_  there's hysteria. Parents have been taking their children home early; only a hundred students, I think, will be catching the Hogwarts Express home at the official end of the term. It's been in the  _Daily Prophet_  all week:  _INSIDIOUS PLOT AGAINST HOGWARTS! FLIGHT FROM DEATH ACTIVE! HOGWARTS STAFF AND STUDENTS POISONED!_

Needless to say, exams have been cancelled.

I've not left Hogwarts yet. Scorpius insists he doesn't need me here and that he's fine, but I don't think I'll leave until I'm certain. At any rate, I certainly didn't want to miss Granger and Ginny Potter in all their fury yell at the Headmaster for employing two FD members. The highlight had to be watching Potter get the back of his head slapped by his wife. "How  _dare_  you run off like that, knowing our son was in danger and you  _didn't even tell me!_  I would have killed that bitch myself, Harry –!"

I can't count how many redheads and Weasleys are in the Hospital Wing at the moment, all crowded around Rose and Albus (and by extension, Scorpius). Someone saw fit to introduce me to all of them. ("That's Scorpius's dad! He used to be a Death Eater but now he's a hero!" "Oooooh…")

From memory, there was James Potter, Victoire Weasley and her two younger siblings, Dominique and Louis. And I think there was a Molly in there somewhere, and a Lucy, and a Fred and a Roxanne. Whose kids are whose, I don't know. Like I said – too many redheads to keep track of. I'm pretty sure all of them have the Weasley surname, though.

_Later_

Scorpius wants to stay at Hogwarts with Rose and Albus and the Scamander twins until the official end of term.

He'll be okay. He will. There are Aurors all over the place, and Potter and Weasley and Granger are here – and Merlin's saggy left testicle, I trust them.

* * *

_June 21, 2018_

I saw Potter and his family at Platform 9 ¾ today, while waiting for Scorpius. Livia was with me, but ran off to find Hugo Weasley as soon as she saw the crowd of red hair surging across the platform. I ran after her, of course; thank Merlin she has my platinum-blonde hair, otherwise I'd never have been able to find her. Before I got to her, I found myself face-to-face with Potter.

"What a year," he said.

"You're telling me."

We watched the kids exchange farewells.

"Hey. You should come over during the break. You and your kids." He grinned and glanced sideways at Weasley and Granger. "Don't tell them I said this, but I think they've unofficially adopted you."

"There are  _so_  many things wrong with that, Potter."

He laughed and we shook hands, just as Scorpius, Albus, and Rose found us.

"Ready to go home?" I asked Scorpius after he said his goodbyes.

"Yeah, I am."

Livia hugged him. "I'm glad you're okay, Scorpius."

"Thanks, Liv."

I got in on the hug as well. "I'm so proud of you," I whispered.

He hugged me back. "Thanks, Dad."

"Don't ever scare me like that again, all right?"

He grinned, but it was more of a  _don't bet on it_  kind of grin than a  _yes I promise_  kind of grin. "Okay, Dad."

I sincerely hope he isn't going to try and top his end-of-year scares like Potter did, although now that he's hanging around Potter spawn and Granger and Weasley spawn, I'm going to have to start assuming the worst from now on. Goodbye, hair.

So now I'm back home, with my Ravenclaw detective son (who should be in Gryffindor after all, I've decided) and my non-magical daughter. In September, he'll be back at school and Livia will be living with Muggles.

Potter wrote to me the other night, just to see how I'm going. So did Weasley.

I honestly don't know how I am. I'm not  _all right_ , that much I know. I haven't been sleeping very well. I doubt I will for a while. But then I look at my children and I think,  _it was worth it._

I think I'll be okay.

* * *

  
  
**Chapter 11: postscript**

_July 31, 2018_

If someone had told me when I was at school that I would one day be attending a private birthday party for none other than Harry Potter, I'm not sure what I would have done. Laughed, first, then scoffed –  _Perfect Potter, having parties thrown for him…_

I'm a bit drunk, I think. The sentence I just wrote looks a bit blurry. Huh.

Anyway. It's a fun party, even if Weasley's being a bit of a douche. I'm outside now and I can't believe I'm writing in my journal. I'm so fucking sad, I swear.

"Tell us 'bout Astoria," Weasley slurred a few minutes ago. "Bit of a bitch, ain't she?"

"A little."

"You haven't been with anyone since she left?"

"No. You might have missed the memo, but I've been a little busy this year."

"It's only been a year, Ron," Ginny Potter said. "Give him some time."

"Technically seven years," I scowled into my drink. I thought I was being quiet but Weasley heard.

" _You haven't gotten laid for seven years?_ "

Weasleys. They're as unsubtle as their hair. Potter choked on his drink and started laughing, and even Granger hid a smile very badly. Evil woman.

"Announce it to the world, why don't you," I grumbled.

"You," Weasley had said dramatically, pointing at my chest, "need to get laid."

I blinked at him slowly. "Okay," I said. "That isn't the  _most_  disturbing thing you've ever said to me, but it's definitely up there."

"Bugger off, Ron!" Potter laughed, but Weasley draped his arm around my shoulder and grinned.

"Whaddaya say we get you into speed dating?"

I said I needed another glass of wine. And now I'm outside like a sad loser writing in my journal because I probably won't remember this but it'll make me laugh when I get over the hangover I'm sure I will have.

At least they won't remember this in the morning, either.

 

**the end**


	2. Draco Malfoy and the Perils of Dating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are a lot of things wrong with Draco Malfoy's life right now, not least of which being him forced into speed dating by Ronald Weasley. Still, it's better than sulking alone at home now that his children are both off at school, right? Well, maybe. It would certainly help if there wasn't a serial killer on the loose.

**Chapter 1: from the journal of draco malfoy I**

_September 1, 2018_

There are so many things wrong with my life right now.

Not wrong in the  _terrible-horrible-tragic_  sense – more wrong in the  _what-the-hell_  sense.

It's late. I've had a long day. I'm going to make things easy for myself and just write out a damn list of the Things That Are Wrong With My Life.

1\. My father died by choking on a peach. (I'm over it.)  
2\. My wife left me for Viktor Krum. (I'm still a bit pissed off.)  
3\. My son is best friends with Harry Potter's son, and Ronald Weasley's and Hermione Granger's daughter. (The red clashes horribly with the décor.)  
4\. My daughter is non-magical and is attending a Muggle school this year. (I'm a hip, cool, understanding Dad of the 21st Century.)  
5\. I somehow got roped into hosting and organising the next Muggleborn Fund Christmas charity ball. (I'm screwed.)  
6\. And Weasley has set me up for speed dating because he thinks I need to get laid.

There are more, but my mind shorts out at that last one.

The day began normally enough. Really, it did. I woke up early, all ultra-prepared (I made sure Livia and Scorpius were packed and ready to go  _way_  in advance), the kids and I ate breakfast, and left the house at an appropriate time and made it to Platform 9 ¾. Flawless. Everything was  _perfect_. Perhaps that should have tipped me off?

As it transpires, I think there is a new unspoken ritual: the Malfoys now meet up with the Weasleys and Potters on the first of September. For this, I blame my children, since they saw fit to make friends with Weasley/Granger and Weasley/Potter spawn. This has somehow expanded to include me. Or maybe that happened because I eat ice cream with Weasley in Diagon Alley on a semi-infrequent basis.

It isn't as stupid as it sounds.

The platform was in its usual crowded, hectic state as I waited with Scorpius for him to board the Hogwarts Express. "Keep safe this year, Scorpius," I told him.

"I will, Dad." But judging by the looks he shared with Albus and Rose (and by extension the Scamander twins), I'm not really sure he'll follow through with his promise to me. I'm positive I never put my father through the sheer amount of stress Scorpius is putting  _me_  through.

"They'll be okay this year," Potter told me after the kids had boarded train. "I've overlooked background checks on all of the teachers, three times over, and an Auror will visit the school every two months."

"Good."

Potter sighed. "Can I be frank with you?" he asked, just as the train started to leave the station.

"Since when are you not, Potter?"

He smiled a bit, at that. "Look, what happened earlier this year… I think we might have stumbled across something."

So, basically, it's true. Flight from Death is trying to pick up again. The  _Prophet_  was a paper of mixed opinions: one moment it claimed FD had infiltrated every aspect of wizarding society, and the next is said that the Hogwarts incident was the work of two fanatics attempting to resurrect FD. I wish it'd make up its mind, sometimes. Potter's expression, I admit, unsettled me. "Big?" I asked.

"No, nothing more than whispers and idle gossip, but given the right spark…"

Potter looked tired. I wonder if he'd slept much the last few weeks, or had a break. Upon closer inspection, Weasley looked just as tired, but remained in good spirits for the sole purpose of tormenting me.

"So," Weasley said to change the subject, "speed dating."

I think I preferred the Flight from Death topic. I can't believe he remembered that. He was  _drunk_. I didn't think he was being _serious_. "No," I said.

"What do you mean 'no'? I've already signed you up."

"You  _what?_  Weasley –"

"It's next week, Malfoy! It's in Diagon Alley, and they're expecting you." Weasley grinned. "There's this Auror who works in the Non-magical crimes Department who goes to this place all the time, so I asked him if he could get you a spot and he said no problem."

I stared at him, and then at Granger, Potter, and the Weaslette. "I knew it," I said. "This is revenge, isn't it. For school."

"Dish best served cold, Malfoy," Weasley said, and he grinned evilly. Or at least, he tried to. I don't think redheads are capable of pulling off an evil grin.

"I hate you so much right now."

Weasley laughed. "Feeling's mutual," he said, but we both knew neither of us meant it. "Anyway, I'll owl you the time and place details –"

"Oh my god, Weasley,  _no_."

"What?"

"I'm not listening to any more of this." I called Livia over to me, and she parted ways with Hugo sadly.

"Oh, come on, you'll enjoy it –"

"No! No, I'm taking Livia to school now."

"You're still going, Malfoy!" Weasley yelled as I took Livia's hand and strode away.

"Maybe you'll find yourself a nice witch!" Potter called after me, and promptly doubled over with laughter.

Wankers, both of them. Them  _and_  their wives, because they were laughing too, the traitors.

Anyway.

We made use of a Ministry car today to get to Pembury. Not that I drove it, because, well, I can't drive. We made good time, although I think the driver took a few shortcuts he wasn't supposed to.

I don't think I've described Ravenswood properly yet. It isn't a large school, but the building is old and the school itself is, according to the information magazine Miss Halcombe gave me, very prestigious. I should hope so, what with the amount of money I'm paying them. That's beside the point, though. The school located in a large village called Pembury. It's mostly countryside and is all in all very picturesque – the very epitome of perfection. Livia spent most of the holidays getting up-to-date with the Muggle curriculum. It's all a lot of gibberish to me, but Livia seems to understand it. She's been enjoying a series of books that Granger introduced her to, something about a lion and a wardrobe. Apparently there is magic in it, though, but the author is Muggle so I've never heard of him. Muggles, for their part, do seem to know about magic, even if they attribute its existence to stories.

Miss Halcombe was there to greet the new students, and welcomed Livia and myself upon our arrival. Livia was delighted she remembered her name.

"Hello, Livia," she'd said. "Excited about starting?"

She nodded emphatically. Miss Halcombe must have seen the expression on my face, though – I think it might have looked nothing short of devastated – and touched my arm. "Don't worry, Mr Malfoy, we'll take very good care of her."

I wasn't worried about that. I know she'll be fine. It's just, she's only nine, and she won't know anyone, and she's never been away from home for this long.

"You can always call her, if you'd like to speak with her. We allow the girls to have mobile phones outside of class hours."

"Oh, no, I – I don't own a mobile phone," I said. "Neither does Livia."

"You don't?" Miss Halcombe gave me a puzzled, if mildly amused, look. "What century have you been living in, Mr Malfoy?"

"According to a friend, approximately the late nineteenth."

(It's not until now that I realise I referred to Granger as the said 'friend'. Father, I can hear you spinning in your crypt.)

Miss Halcombe laughed and was distracted for a moment by another new student. I took the opportunity to kneel beside Livia and hug her.

"Bye, sweetie. You write to me, okay?"

"I will, Daddy," she said. "You have to write as well!"

"I'll send you a letter every week, if you like."

"Maybe not  _every_  week," she said. "But, often. Please?"

I promised I would, and then I let her follow some similar-aged Muggle students into the school. I waved goodbye one last time, then noticed Miss Halcombe watching me with a surprised expression. "You write letters? Real letters?"

"As opposed to fake letters?"

"No, I mean – letters as opposed to email. You actually put pen to paper and write."

Quill to parchment, but the concept is the same. I shrugged, unsure of what 'email' was. "Well, yes. Since I'm from the nineteenth century and all." This seemed a safe joking explanation, because she smiled.

"Mr Malfoy, you are full of surprises," she said. Shortly after this exchange, I returned to the Ministry car which took me back to the Ministry. So now I'm at home. It's evening. I had dinner on my own for the first time fifteen years, and now I don't know what to do with myself other than sulk.

I do know one thing, though: I am  _not_  going speed dating.

* * *

_September 3, 2018_

I tried my hand at cooking today.

It was a bit of a disaster, but whatever. It was something to do.

* * *

_September 5, 2018_

It's a nice day outside. I should probably go flying. Or go to Diagon Alley. Or do something. Except I won't have anyone to do it with, so I don't see the point. Still, it's kind of pathetic to be sitting in bed sulking and writing in a journal.

I'm such a fucking sad excuse for a wizard.

* * *

_September 6, 2018_

I guess I should be doing something about that charity ball thing for the Muggleborn Fund. What, I'm not sure, because when it came down to it, it was mother and Astoria who were unrivalled with their organisations. Because, me? I have no idea what I'm doing. "Typical male," Astoria used to tease me, back when we were amicable. Heck, back when we were  _affectionate_. But she's still in Bulgaria as far as I know, and it's not as though I can go to her for help. I'm not about to bother Daphne, either; she's busy enough with her own kids. Looks like I'll have to ask mother instead. She's in France at the moment, but maybe if I ask nicely enough?

Mother took Livia's non-magical status considerably well – indeed, far better than I expected. She already doted upon her grandkids anyway, so Livia being non-magical didn't really change anything much. I think she's convinced herself that she's too old to worry about things like blood purity and power. She's still a social elitist, though, and her social crowd includes  _anyone_  who is in the social spotlight, completely regardless of blood status.

Malfoy, right? We're survivors. I'll ask her. She did say I could Floo her any time.

_Later_

Or, maybe I'll wait, because she's on a  _date_  with a French ambassador to the Ministry of Magic.

My own  _mother_  has a better sex life than I do. I think I'll add that to the list of Things That Are Wrong With My Life.

If I didn't need therapy before, I certainly need it  _now_.

* * *

_September 9, 2018_

It's Livia's ninth birthday today and she's not even home for it to be celebrated. I sent her a card and a non-magical present through Muggle post earlier this week, so she should have received it by now. I hope she's having a nice day.

The House Elves made an ice cream cake in her absence and I ate most of it myself.

_Later_

I mean, it's not as though I can go to Weasley and Potter and Granger for company, for Merlin's sake. The last I heard, Potter and Weasley are tied down because of FD and Granger and the Weaslette already have their own friends and are busy with their own jobs with House Elf rights and Quidditch.

Maybe I need to get another job. I'm a Hogwarts Board Governor but it's not as though I do anything except sit in on the occasional meeting.

_Later again_

This house just isn't the same without the kids.

* * *

_September 12, 2019_

I'm pathetic.

I went to the damn speed dating thing. It wasn't as though I had anything better to do with my time.

I'm home now. Thank Merlin, too, because that? That was a disaster and a half.

There were more women than men there. The thing was held in some dingy little room above a glove shop in Diagon Alley in the evening, but I didn't dress up for the occasion because, hey, it was speed dating. That was embarrassing enough as it is. At about 6 p.m. I signed in and loitered in the corner a bit, waiting for however many people still to arrive. There were two men there already, when I got there: one about my age with thick eyebrows and a drawn expression, and the other a bit younger and far too handsome to be making use of a speed dating service. The one with the thick eyebrows noticed me first and came over.

"Draco Malfoy, right?"

"Right."

"Hi. My name's Vitus. Vitus Fallone," he said, and I shook his hand. "How do you do?"

I winced. "I'm at a speed dating night. I could be doing better."

I admit, I immediately felt bad after saying that, because Vitus looked uncomfortable. "Oh," he said softly. "Well. Maybe you'll have fun?"

"Yes, maybe," I conceded. "How long have you been coming here for?"

"About two years now, ever since I lost my wife."

So.  _Awkward_. Why do people  _do_  that? It's very sad that he lost his wife, yes, and I'm sympathetic, but I barely knew him and I didn't know what I was supposed to  _say_  in response. I went for a nice neutral, "I'm sorry."

"Thank you," he said. At least he wasn't one of those people who say, "What are you sorry for?  _You_  didn't kill her." I can't stand those people. He excused himself after that and moved away to get himself a drink. I don't think he liked me much. Not that I'm gutted or anything, because I don't know him and I'll probably never see him again.

The younger good-looking man came over once Vitus left. "Ignatius Pantera," he introduced himself.

"Nice to meet you," I replied. "I'm Draco Malfoy."

"Yeah, I know who you are." Pantera grinned. "I'm the guy who helped sign you up. Ron Weasley's friend?"

"The…" I had to wrack my memory. "…Non-magical Crimes Auror?"

Pantera grinned proudly. "That's me."

I have to admit, I didn't even think such a department even existed. It must be really obscure, because from what I gathered, he's a one-man team. "Well, thank you. For signing me up," I said awkwardly, and he thumped my back.

"Wasn't any trouble at all. I had plenty of time on my hands. Job like mine? Haven't had a proper case since 2014!" He laughed. "No need to ask why you're here, anyway. Trying to make the ex jealous, are you?"

"Not as such," I replied. "What about you? You hardly look the type to require the services of a speed dating agency."

He shrugged. "It's more fun this way," he said, then peeked over at the women's group. "Besides, the girls who come here? They're the most desperate."

So, Pantera was a pig and a wanker, but that aside he seemed all right in small doses.

When some more men and women arrived, we all sat down on the tables. The women were the ones who rotated after a ten-minute conversation, but even so, I just found the entire thing extremely condescending. I had a miserable time, to say the least: of the twelve witches there, four refused to talk to me, five were insufferable, two were well into their sixties, and one I'm pretty sure was underage.

One of the insufferable ones was, to my horror, Pansy Parkinson.

I think I mentioned a while ago that Pansy hasn't spoken to me for four years because of what Scorpius did. I don't particularly wish to remember it, but it involved a sticking charm, a cockroach sandwich, and a bucket of paint, because he overhead Pansy call Astoria a "money-grabbing tart". In Astoria's defence (however unwillingly given at the moment), she wasn't a money-grabbing tart because at the time of our marriage, she had more money than I did. Pansy was being very petty and bitter, and there was no need for her to say that in front of my children.

Not that I'm condoning Scorpius's actions or anything. Of course not. That would be terrible.

"Draco," Pansy said.

"Pansy," I replied.

She sat back and crossed her arms. "I heard about Astoria leaving you," she said tartly.

She  _had_  to play that card. I mean, who  _hasn't_ heard about Astoria leaving me? That was well over a year ago. Pansy was glaring at me, although whether she was trying to silently say  _I bet you're regretting you didn't marry me now_  or  _serves you right, you arsehole_ , I'm not sure. It was a very ambiguous glare.

So I said, "Did you also hear that my daughter is non-magical and my son is best friends with Harry Potter's son and it was Ronald Weasley who convinced me to get back into dating? I'm out of a lot of peoples' leagues right now, present company not excluded."

I didn't say it was smart. I just said I said it.

At least I made sure she'd never talk to me or be interested in me again, I guess?

_Later_

I am going to glare at Weasley  _so hard_  the next time I see him.

* * *

  
  
**Chapter 2: correspondence I**

_September 13, 2018_

Hey, Malfoy! Heard from Ignatius that you went to the speed-dating night after all. Harry wants to know if you found yourself a nice witch!

R. Weasley

* * *

_September 15, 2018_

Weasley,

You and Potter are wankers and I hate you both.

D. Malfoy

* * *

_September 18, 2018_

Miss Livia Malfoy  
Ravenswood College, Old Church Road  
Pembury, Tunbridge Wells  
Kent TN2 4AX, England

Dear Livia,

It has been very quiet in the house, without you. How are you settling in to your school? I hope you will be happy there, even though it's quite far away from home. You're very missed – the House Elves continuously cook more food than I can eat!

I'm very sorry I couldn't have been with your on your birthday, but I hope you had a lovely day regardless. Did you receive the present I sent you on time?

Very little has happened at home since you and Scorpius began school. I tried to cook something last week, but it was a bit of a disaster. If I ever attempt to make beef ragout again, make certain to tell me off!

I have passed along your school's address to Scorpius, so you may expect letters from him as well – with luck, through Muggle post. I have reminded him not to use Aziraphale or a Hogwarts school owl, but I'm afraid nothing can be promised – if an owl turns up at the school, just pretend it isn't yours or it isn't for you. I hear the Muggles are pedantic about animals for labour – they have equal rights groups and everything.

Enclosed with this letter is the latest issue of the  _Daily Prophet_ , as I know you enjoy reading some of the articles and I thought you might like to keep up with the magical world current events. You might be non-magical and receiving a formal education in the Muggle world, but you are still my daughter and the magical world is as much yours as it is anyone else's. I have already charmed the newspaper to hide it, so that the Muggles don't notice the moving pictures, so you don't need to take extra pains to hide it.

If you need anything – anything at all – write to me, and I'll do whatever I can. Keep safe and well, Livia. I miss you and love you, and I will see you again for the Christmas break.

Much love,

Your father

* * *

_September 23, 2018_

Mr Draco Malfoy  
Malfoy Manor  
Salisbury  
Wiltshire SP5 5QG, UK

Dear Daddy,

School is really good! I like it at Ravenswood a lot. It is always pretty and the other girls a very nice. Except one for one girl but everyone says she's just homesick. I'm a bit homesick too I think because I really miss home and I miss you too but I am having fun. The teachers are nice too. Classes are really interesting especially Muggle history. Did you know they had a war the same time as the Grindlewald war? Muggles have had a lot of wars but only with other Muggles, not with magical creatures. None of them believe in magic!

I got the present on time! Thank you so much. The books are great.

You tried to cook? Daddy, you can't cook! Last time we tried together you set the kitchen on fire! Maybe you should let the House Elves cook from now on even though they make too much. Or you could practice some more! My new friend Lizzie says that her father is a chef and they make cakes together.

Thank you for sending me the  _Daily Prophet_. It is good to know what is happening back home. I'm putting a Muggle newspaper in with this letter for you! It is called  _The Daily Telegraph_  and it is interesting. I don't understand a lot of it but it's funny because the pictures don't move.

Would you pretty please give the school address to Hugo so that he can write to me? I would like to write to him but I do not know his home address either. I can't wait for the Christmas holidays! It will be good to be home again and see you and Scorpius.

Love from Livia

* * *

_September 26, 2018_

Malfoy –

Look, I know this is going to sound really horrible, but I need a list of names from you. FD isn't anything to worry about - Kingson was an idealist - but the Aurors are still trying to round up the left-overs and the best leads we have are old Death Eaters. Believe me when I say I feel bad about this letter, but I wouldn't ask if I didn't think you could help. If you can give me anything, I'd appreciate it.

H. Potter

* * *

_September 28, 2018_

Potter,

Well, you certainly don't pull your punches. I want you to know right now that the only reason I'm replying civilly is because Kingson tried to kill my son.

I'm not going to be of much help to you, you know, and none of the people I name are going to be any help to you either. I assume you've already talked to Theodore Nott and the Zabinis. Beyond those, I doubt I'll be of any use. There was a very large number of minor Death Eaters, but I won't be of much help with their names. This is the best I can do:

Titus Fiore  
Augustus Andros  
Vipsania Wilde  
Benedict Cavalier

D. Malfoy

PS: Might I request you refrain from using your son's evil lunatic owl? I don't like the way it looks at my owl.

* * *

_October 1, 2018_

Dear Scorpius,

What's this, no letters to your old father yet? I hope you haven't forgotten me! Either that, or you've been too busy with schoolwork (hopefully) or creating catastrophes with Potter and Weasley (more likely). How has your second year at Hogwarts been going so far? It would please me to know that your new Potions professor is less of a psychopath than your previous one. I hope you are well and your friends are in good health and spirits after the situation at the end of your last school year.

As I told Livia in my letter not too long ago, things at home have been very quiet. You and your sister are missed around the house, but I hope to have both of you home for the Christmas holidays.

Stay out of trouble, Scorpius – you've made me lose enough hair for one year, I should think.

Love,

Your father

PS: Please send Livia a letter soon, as she would love to hear from you.

* * *

_October 4, 2018_

Dear Dad,

No, I haven't forgotten about you! I was busy with schoolwork. Honestly! Sorry I didn't write.

Things at Hogwarts are pretty tame now, actually. Compared to last year, anyway. The teachers are all really strict now and an Auror is supposed to come to assess Hogwarts once a month now. The new Potions professor is really nice – her name is Professor Robertson.

Rose and Al are good. We're all better from last year – you know that, Dad! Everyone keeps asking us what happened. It's  _brilliant_.

I promise to keep safe. Lysander Scamander has been obsessing about more conspiracy theories and plots since the start of this term but there's nothing suspicious here. He says it's a shame because he didn't get in on the excitement and adventure last time. Lorcan is more sensible about it (you'd approve): "Lysander, I hardly think that a murderous teacher and poisoned students can be called  _exciting_ …"

So, I promise to keep out of trouble.

Love,

Scorpius

PS: Done and done! I don't know how she's going to send a letter back, though, because Hogwarts is unplottable.

PPS: If I'm not staying at Hogwarts this year for Christmas, can Al and Rose come to our place instead?

* * *

_October 14, 2018_

Livia Malfoy  
Ravenswood College, Old Church Road  
Pembury, Tunbridge Wells  
Kent TN2 4AX, England

Dear Livia,

How are you? I hope you are well. Is Muggle school really fun? What's it like? I am sending this through Muggle post. Mum says Muggle post can be slow sometimes but she says I'm not alowd to send you an owl because of the Muggles. She also said I couldn't send anything until my spelling and grammar got better, so I'm trying really really really hard to not make mistakes.

Things at home are really boring. I only have my cousin Lily to play with now but she isn't as fun as you because she keeps talking about going to Hogwarts and keeps trying spells with Uncle Harry's wand because she steals it sometimes. I am excited to go to Hogwarts but I'm still sad you won't be there. I asked my Mum if I could go to Muggle school like you but she said no.

What are the Muggles like? Write back soon.

Love,

Hugo

PS: I am at my Grandma's and Gramp's house for the next few weeks to stay with them so you should sent your letter back to the Burrow so I can get it.

* * *

_October 29, 2018_

Hugo Weasley  
The Burrow, Cadhay Lane  
Ottery St Catchpole  
Devon EX11 1QT, UK

Dear Hugo,

I am well, thank you. Ravenswood is really nice, and a lot of fun. It's really interesting! The schoolwork is all about proper grammar and punctuation, mathematics, and reading. No magic at all!

Muggle post is a bit slow, yes. I wish I could use an owl but the girls I board with would get suspicious. Besides, I like getting Muggle Post! It's exciting.

I am still sad I will not be going to Hogwarts, but I like Muggle school very much. Silly, you can't come to a Muggle school! Your mum is right. You are a wizard and you need to go to Hogwarts. You can tell me all about it! Scorpius never tells me what I want him to tell me.

Muggles are very smart and nice. They don't know anything about magic (they think it is fake) but they have their own sort of magic called science, and their own Herbology called botany. It is really interesting! When I learn more I will tell you about it, and you can tell me about what you learn at Hogwarts.

I hope to hear from you again soon!

Love from Livia

PS: You will have to give me your real home address so I can write more letters!

* * *

_October 30, 2018_

Hello, Draco Malfoy!

We at the  _Single Witches and Wizards Speed Dating Agency_  noticed that you haven't attended for a while! With luck, this means that you're well and truly back in the dating game! If not, well, we're always delighted to have you back! It could be that the perfect witch (or wizard!) is still waiting for you… and you might find her (or him!) at our speed-dating night on November 14! If you're interested in attending, please RSVP by November 4 so that we can sign you up for a night of socialising… and romance!

Regards,

The  _SWWSDA_  Team!

* * *

_November 3, 2018_

To Whom It May Concern:

This is my RSVP for the November 14 night.

Sincerely,

Draco Malfoy

* * *

  
  
**Chapter 3: from the journal of draco malfoy II**

_October 29, 2018_

I ate ice cream in Diagon Alley with Weasley today.

It's good to get out of the house. Cold as it's getting, it's quite busy in Diagon Alley, and it was sort of nice to be around a lot of other people. The place is choked with Halloween decorations, though. And you know what? I  _hate_  what Halloween has become. It's all really commercial now – such a disgustingly American concept. It's all very fake. Nothing like it used to be, when I was a child. I expressed my disdain for it to Weasley.

"You sound like an old coot, Malfoy.  _Back in my day, hurr hurr hurr…_ "

I don't know why I bothered.

Anyway, today was the first time he's been in his junk store for several weeks. Not that I've periodically been going in to check or anything, because that's obsessive and kind of disturbing. Just because Weasley is just about the only person, along with Potter and Granger, that I can actually call a close acquaintance, doesn't mean I seek his company on a semi-infrequent basis. At all.

"You haven't been at the store, lately," I actually said to him. Rather than commenting on my knowledge of it (and thus realising that it meant I'd noticed his working habits), Weasley shrugged.

"I've been busy. You know, with the Aurors and the FD nonsense. George can handle the store on his own."

"How's that going, anyway? FD?"

Weasley exhaled loudly. "It's crap," he said. "Waste of time. There's always gonna be wannabe Death Eaters, you know? I'm pretty sure it was just Kingson and du Lac and a couple of their creepy mates. They  _were_  kind of amateurish."

I refrained from remarking that those two 'amateurs' were responsible for drugging an entire school, poisoning students, and capable of disarming two highly trained Aurors.

"Potter asked me for names," I said.

"I know."

I didn't ask if they were any help, and he didn't tell me. I presume they weren't.

There was nothing particularly memorable about the conversation for a while. We mostly made small talk, the obligatory referral to the upcoming Minister for Magic elections now that Shacklebolt's terms are up. People have been saying Potter should run for the Minister's position. I said as much to Weasley, and he snorted. "Harry?" he said. " _Please_."

He pronounced it more like "Puh- _leeeeeaze_." I am proud to say I refrained from asking if he was taking attitude and English lessons from his adolescent children.

"Who're you voting for?" he asked.

"I don't know. They're both as average as each other, if you ask me."

Weasley agreed with me. It's pretty true, actually. The campaigns for the election have been uncommonly dull. I don't particularly care for Giulia Gilbert or Anthony Abshott, as neither of them seem to stand for anything in particular, or seem to have any sweeping differences. Maybe it's a good sign? Perhaps the wizarding world is doing all right that we're not screaming for a new Minister or terrified of change.

"My children have expressed interest in having your children and Albus Potter over for the Christmas break," I said.

I'm not sure what I expected Weasley's reaction to be. Him looking uncomfortable with the suggestion shouldn't have been anything new. I mean, it technically wasn't, because I'm used to people looking uncomfortable when I suggest them coming back to the Manor. I guess it just sort of… hurt a bit.

"Er," he said.

I raised an eyebrow. "You don't sound very enthusiastic."

He shrugged awkwardly. "It's just. You know. The Manor."

Weasley, Potter, and Granger haven't been to the Manor since the War, and with good reason.

I ripped out the dungeon in 2001.

"I've redecorated since," I said dryly, which merited a small laugh from Weasley.

"How do you do it, though?" he asked. "Live there?"

It's a fair point, and one I've thought about a lot over the years.

It hasn't been easy. For years I couldn't go into a lot of the rooms. When the Dark Lord took up residence in my home he took over more than just the house. He took over our lives. Like prisoners, we were; mere servants in the grand house that belonged to the great line of Malfoys for more than three centuries. And there was some tyrant who preached blood purity despite being a Halfblood  _himself_ , lording over us, defiling our  _home_. Aunt Bellatrix scorned us that year, for despising the Dark Lord's presence. She kept on saying there was no higher honour, except it felt like the furthest thing from honour. Mother called it a violation, and she was right. That's exactly how it felt to be turned into prisoners in our own home on the whim of a powerful lunatic.

But we never left. I've worked hard over the years to purge the Dark Lord's presence from Malfoy Manor.

"Because it's my home," was all I managed to articulate, though. Weasley seemed to understand what I meant.

There was a bit more small talk after that, but I eventually brought it back around to something that was bugging me for ages: "Are we ever going to talk about school?"

Weasley screwed up his nose. "What's there to talk about? You were a little shithead in school."

"Well," I flustered, "so were you."

We were silent for a couple of seconds.

"Is that it?"

Weasley crunched the cone of his ice cream. "Malfoy," he said through a mouthful of cone, "if you want to sit down and talk about your feelings, go talk to Hermione. I'm sure she'd love to organise a group therapy session."

And that was it.

He had to leave shortly after that; Auror work. Weasley – and by extension, Potter – are going to be tied down over the next few weeks. Standard Auror protocol these days; if there is a suspicion of Death Eater revivalist groups, they pursue it. Of course, there's nothing, so Potter and Weasley will be stuck going through hundreds of files. I cannot say I envy them.

Were I a more paranoid person I'd suspect that maybe FD is so deep underground that even the Aurors can't find them. Actually, I _am_  a bit paranoid, so I'm not going to rule that out, but for now I'm not going to stress myself out over it.

Maybe I should invite Granger over to tea. Company and good public image: I'm good at killing two birds with one stone.

_Later_

Then again, she might make me talk about my feelings. So maybe not.

* * *

_November 3, 2018_

I'm pathetic.

* * *

_November 10, 2018_

At least Scorpius is coming back home for the Christmas break this year. I didn't dwell on it much last year, because he was excited to spend it at Hogwarts with his new friends (though in hindsight they all probably had the ulterior motive of staying to instigate their investigative shenanigans). I'd had Livia with me a lot, while he was gone. But now both my kids are at school, and Christmas and the other breaks are the only times I'll see them all year. Did my parents feel like this, when I was at school? I always went home for Christmas, because they requested it, so perhaps they did. I couldn't imagine spending Christmas at Hogwarts anyway. For all their faults, I loved my parents.

I'll invite Potter and Weasley and Granger and their kids over to the Manor formally, I suppose. Perhaps before the Muggleborn Fund thing happens.

Speaking of, I really should start  _doing_  something about that charity thing. It wouldn't hurt much to host it at the Manor. I mean, yes, I might get a bit of hate mail (Merlin knows I've received so much of it over the last twenty years that it doesn't affect me at all now) but if it's taken in the spirit that it's intended, it could work out. Hosting a Muggleborn Fund Christmas charity ball in the same house the long-dead Dark Lord resided in?

Look at me, creating controversies and scandals. I'm talented.

* * *

_November 14, 2018_

It… wasn't actually that bad, tonight. I went to the place early, partly in hope of avoiding Pantera. (No such luck, but still.) The other men and women there were different from the last crowd (except for Pantera and Fallone and some other guy called Gardener), so I didn't have to put up with Pansy Parkinson this time. Big relief, that.

"Oh, hello, Mr Malfoy," Fallone said when he saw me.

"Vitus Fallone, wasn't it?" I asked.

"Yes, that's me. It is good to see you again."

I didn't share his sentiments, because I was so desperate for company that I was lowering myself to going to speed-dating. I didn't say that, though. I feel a bit sorry for Fallone, actually. He must be lonely if he keeps coming to the nights. Although, I keep thinking I've seen him somewhere. He looks familiar. Or maybe it's just the thick eyebrows that remind me of Krum.

"Back again, Malfoy!" Ignatius Pantera cried when he spotted me. I didn't have time to hide behind the potted plant. He strode over and nudged my ribs. "Couldn't keep away, could ya!"

I don't know if I mentioned in my last entry about him, but Ignatius Pantera is  _really obnoxious_. No wonder he gets along with Weasley so well. "Yes, I'm back," I said tiredly, and I avoided him for the rest of the evening as best I could.

For the most part, it was as boring as the last time I went, except for when the seventh woman came around. I blinked stupidly for a few seconds before exclaiming, "Titania?"

"Draco Malfoy!" Titania Greengrass grinned and flopped into the chair opposite me. "I thought I recognised that receding blonde hair."

She laughed when my hands leapt to my hair defensively. "Fiend," I muttered. "You're as bad as Astoria!"

Titania raised an eyebrow. "I am only like my cousin in respects to your hair, good sir." She took my hands and squeezed them tightly. "How are you, Draco? And the kids? I haven't seen you all in  _ages_!"

It's true. I don't think I've seen Titania since my divorce from Astoria. I told her briefly about Scorpius at Hogwarts and Livia at the Muggle school before blurting out, "Sorry, but – can I ask, what are you doing at a speed-dating night?" And to be fair, it was a valid question. "If you don't mind me saying, you hardly seem in need of these services."

I mean, Titania Greengrass is nothing short of  _gorgeous_. She's young, stunning, Pureblooded, and wealthy, and she knows it. Long brown hair, blue eyes, seductive features – and her figure… well, it would be a lie if I said I  _didn't_  take a proper look at her body when I saw her tonight. (I'm sure she noticed me checking her out, but she didn't say anything.) She's very like Astoria in the physical respect, although a younger and more sexual version. Which isn't to say Astoria  _isn't_  sexual; it's just that Titania has more appeal. I might have married Titania, actually, had she not been so young at the time.

(…I suppose the age difference is irrelevant  _now_ …)

Titania laughed again. "Oh, I'm not!" she said, and flashed me a wicked grin. "It's  _fun_. And the men who come here? They're the _most_  desperate."

"Thanks," I drawled, and she gasped.

"I mean, that's not to say  _you're_  desperate, Draco – I meant the others –"

"No, it's okay. I  _am_  desperate."

Titania snorted. I remember thinking,  _she's too pretty to snort_ , but I don't think she cares much about that sort of stuff. She somehow makes snorting look good. "Oh, Draco." She patted my hand and gave me a sly smile. "You can probably expect an equally desperate Astoria here soon, you know."

"What?"

"You haven't heard?"

I shook my head. "Heard what?"

"Krum broke it off with her, about three weeks ago!"

I'm always the last to know gossip unless I'm in the middle of it. I admit, though, the news is still rather startling and unexpected. A better person than I would be feeling sorry for Astoria. Me? I feel a bit like Pansy Parkinson right now, except less bitter and more triumphant.  _Serves you right_ and  _I bet you wish you hadn't left me now_.

I'm petty. So sue me.

"… _apparently_ , he told her he was in love with some librarian. Mousy-looking thing, but sweet as can be…"

"How's Astoria taking it?" I asked. I don't think my motives in learning were entirely selfless.

Titania lowered her voice. "Well, she  _says_  the break-up was mutual, but if you ask me, she's very upset." She looked a little sad at that. "She gave up a lot for him, you know."

"I didn't think she was in love with him."

"I don't think she was either, but she liked him a lot."

I snorted. "Well, whatever."

Titania frowned at me. For all her carefree nature and ease with me, she's still very much a Greengrass. Blood is thicker than water, as they say. "You could show a little sympathy for her, you know."

"She disowned Livia," I said. "I'm not feeling very sympathetic for her right now."

Titania sighed. "Well, yes. But you should have seen her when she found out Livia was a Squib. She was devastated. Didn't know _what_  to do."

"She could have started by  _not_  disowning her," I growled.

"I said she was devastated. I didn't say she was thinking clearly."

"I don't consider that an excuse."

She sighed and we both dropped the subject, mostly because it was time for the women to rotate again.

The other women were either boring, too old, or wouldn't talk to me, but the session ended sooner than I expected. I left the place with Titania. "Can I walk you anywhere?" I offered.

"No, it's okay." She smiled. "I can make my own way home from here. Goodnight, Draco." She winked at me. "I'll come by the Manor and see you some time."

"I'd like that," I replied.

"Pass along my love to the kids!"

I parted with her after kissing her hand. Let it never be said I am not a gentleman.

So that was my night, and… I'm feeling kind of good about myself.

* * *

  
  
**Chapter 4: from the journal of draco malfoy III**

_November 16, 2018_

I'm used to regretting a lot of things I've done. I'm not used to regretting the things I  _didn't_  do. It's going to haunt me for a very long time. I know, logically, it isn't my fault. There was no way I could have known.

And yet.  _And yet._

I don't think I have words enough to describe just how much I regret not walking Titania home the other night.

 _If only. Perhaps. I should have. If I did this_ … Stupid, pointless,  _useless._

I'm still in shock, I think. It doesn't feel real.

Titania is dead. It hasn't been formally or publicly announced yet. The only reason I know she's dead is because I was arrested his morning as her murder suspect.

I'm back home now. I'd be lying if I said I'm not affected. My hand's shaking so badly I can hardly read the sentences I just wrote, and my hand is smudging the ink all over the paper. I haven't cried yet, which I'm not sure whether to take as a good sign or a bad sign.

The Aurors came to the Manor this morning. "Draco Malfoy?" one asked when I opened the door. I answer it myself, now – friendly public appearance and all that. It was early and I was still waking up, though thankfully I'd had the common sense to throw on some clothes and a robe.

"Yes?" I'd said. Yawned, actually.

"Will you accompany us to the Ministry of Magic?"

"Why?"

"Mr Malfoy, you are suspect in the murder of Titania Greengrass and you to be taken in for questioning. Please come with us now or we will take you by force."

The wands pointing at me were enough to convince me. I didn't even realise just what he'd said until a few moments late. "Wait, what?"

"You are to come with us –"

" _Murder_  suspect? What happened?  _She's dead_?"

I think I squeaked, because the Aurors looked vaguely unimpressed.

I don't remember much in between that and finding myself waiting in a room to be questioned. It's a bit of a blur. I remember feeling numb, and hearing people talk at me and take my name and date of birth and check my wand, but not much else. I will thank Merlin for small mercies: Potter was the one who came in to the room to question me.

"Malfoy," he said after he'd locked the door and seated himself opposite me.

"Potter." I swallowed. "Is it true? Titania's dead?"

He stared at me. "Her body was found last night, in Knockturn Alley."

"Oh, Merlin," I whispered.

Potter opened the file he was holding. "She was found by a passing couple late last night. They alerted the Aurors. Primary examinations show that Titania Greengrass was strangled to death. She was dead for at least twenty-four hours before she was found."

It makes more sense now. Then, I just sat there shaking my head. "Maybe it isn't her. Maybe it just looks like her. How do you know –?"

"Daphne and Astoria Greengrass identified her body early this morning." He sat forwards in his chair. "I'm sorry, Malfoy. It's her."

"But I saw her two nights ago," I said stupidly. "She was fine."

"Well, that's just it, Malfoy. That's why you're here. Reports say that she was last seen alive in your company, on the night of the 14th."

"Yes," I said. Well, choked. I cleared my throat and tried again. "Yes, we – we ran into each other at the speed-dating night. We left together and walked for a bit. I offered to walk her somewhere, or home, but she said she'd be all right and then we went in opposite directions." I remember leaning over the desk desperately, grabbing Potter's forearms. "Please tell me she wasn't killed that night.  _Please._ "

Potter just gazed at me silently, and I knew she had been.

Two nights ago.  _That night_. Perhaps only hours – maybe  _minutes_  – after we parted ways. Potter handed me a glass of water and I gulped it down like a lunatic. Water, at least, made sense.

"Malfoy," Potter said in a soft voice when I put the glass down. "You and I both know what you're capable of –"

"How  _dare_  you –"

"Draco!" Potter pushed me back down gently. I didn't even realise I'd lurched to my feet. "I said we both know what you're capable of. I also know under which circumstances. I highly doubt Titania Greengrass was threatening your children."

"I didn't kill her. Potter, I swear –"

"I believe you."

It was reassuring, that. To know I had someone who believed me, and Harry Potter at that. I sunk back down into my chair properly, shaking. "Thank you," I muttered. He nodded.

"Do you have an alibi for that night?"

"My House Elves can tell you what time I got home."

Potter made a note of it in the file. "I can't take this case, you realise. It's out of my jurisdiction." He must have seen my alarm because he quickly reassured me with, "It's being handed over to Ignatius Pantera. You've already met him, I think."

"Non-magical crimes guy? Yeah, I've met him."

"Good. I'll call him in soon. Just tell him everything you know, any information you have."

"Okay."

"Draco, will you be all right?"

I don't remember if I answered that or not. I did stammer, "I should have walked her home. I should have stayed with her –"

"There's no way you could have known." He touched my shoulder. "Take it easy. Just stay here. Pantera will be here soon."

I was left alone for about five minutes. It wasn't really enough time to get my thoughts in order or make sense of anything, but it was enough time to stop myself from hyperventilating. I heard voices outside, Potter talking to Pantera – I recognised their tones. Pantera entered the room, holding the file Potter had from before.

"Come on, Malfoy. Let's go to my office. These interrogation rooms always give me the creeps."

I followed him sullenly.

I don't think I've properly described Ignatius Pantera. He's a younger man and quite handsome, all dirty blond hair and an appealing rugged nature about him. Green eyes, clean-shaved, fair skin, and above average height. All in all, good-looking, if a bit generic. It's a shame his personality leaves a bit to be desired.

"So. Draco Malfoy," he said once we were in his office. It was a small thing, a one-person Department. He doesn't even have a partner. The office itself was freakishly clean. Well, cleaner than I expected, anyway. There were piles of parchment everywhere, but no typical pizza box on the ground or bottles of gin and whiskey. (None that I saw of, anyway.) He sat down on a chair on the other side of his desk, and gestured for me to take the opposite seat. "Tell me what you did on the night of the 14th."

I recounted my evening – how I went to the speed-dating night (which Pantera knew, because he was there in all his obnoxious glory), met Titania there by chance, and spoke with her briefly afterwards before parting ways with her and returning home to write in my journal like a loser.

I didn't say that last part.

He wrote everything I said down onto an official statement parchment.

"Am I the only suspect?" I asked when his quill stopped scratching the parchment.

He pulled out a packet of Muggle cigarettes from his pocket and put one between his lips. At least think that's they're called. They smell horrid.

"At the moment," Pantera replied. He spoke around the cigarette so his voice was muffled a bit. He dug around in his robes for a lighter. I almost suggested he just use his wand. "'Cept, you're not really a  _suspect_ ," he continued. "You're a person of interest to the case. That's what we're supposed to call it now. No proof, you see?"

I nodded, relieved, just as he pulled a lighter triumphantly from a pocket.

"Doesn't mean I won't find, any, though. Innocent until proven guilty and all that rot."

I was a little less relieved.

"Thing is, Draco, it all looks very suss."

By then, I was acutely aware of the locked door and the filtered lighting. That office felt more like an interrogation chamber than the actual one did. Pantera stood up and walked around me and behind me, hovering in my blind spot. I heard Weasley talk about that, once – when you're questioning someone, you try to freak them out by only just staying out of their sight. Make them squirm until they slip something.

"You were the last person to see her alive, Draco. You just so happened to run into her that night, and walk out with her. You recently divorced from her cousin. Astoria Greengrass left you and your kids, disowned your daughter… anyone would hate a woman like that." I heard him light up his cigarette. "Records show that Titania looks a lot like your ex-wife."

I knew what he was implying, but I was too damn shaken and numb to say much of anything. "Potter believes me," I said hoarsely. I'm sure that weak protest didn't do much for my case.

"Potter has a bad habit of assuming the best of everyone, including you, Draco," Pantera said, and exhaled a cloud of smoke. I coughed on it. He walked back around and sat on the edge of his desk. "Really sad, you know," he continued. "Shocked me a bit to see her body. I knew her, you see."

"How?" I asked. "I take it you don't mean from the speed-dating night."

Pantera rolled his eyes. "Hogwarts, Draco." He kept on calling me by my first name, over and over again. I found it extremely irritating. "Pretty much every witch or wizard you see went there. Someone always knows someone. Titania was in the year above me. Gorgerous girl. Everyone loved her." He shrugged and tapped the ash of his cigarette into a grotty little ashtray holding down a stack of parchment. "Didn't have much to do with her, though. I talked to her for a few minutes the other night, of course. She didn't recognise me. Not that I expected her to."

He took a long drag and exhaled it. I tried not to cough again. Pantera shook his head, ignoring my discomfort.

"Terrible shame," he said. "She was so pretty."

After he finished his cigarette and smashed the butt into a filthy ashtray, he said he'd come by tomorrow and get statements from my House Elves, and let me go.

So I guess he sort of maybe kind of believes me, but doesn't really.

_Later_

I can't stop thinking about her. Titania.

I should have stayed with her. I know there was no way I could have known, but… Merlin. It was late and dark. I should have stayed with her.

What did I write in that journal entry, anyway? " _Let it never be said I am not a gentleman_." Ha-fucking-ha. I'm such a fucking joke.

I was being selfish that night. I didn't even check to see if she'd gotten home safely. So what if she was a grown woman and a powerful, armed witch? So bloody  _what_? I went home and I spent my time thinking about fairy tales – that maybe this beautiful woman would spend some time with a pathetic, desperate man – while she was alone with her murderer.

I as good as killed her.

_Later again_

Titania. I'm so sorry.

* * *

_November 17, 2018_

There was a small article on it in the  _Daily Prophet_. Titania was important enough to make the front page, at least, but otherwise it was mostly articles on the upcoming elections and Potter's efforts with FD and the 'economy on the edge of a crash'. It's always about to crash, but it hasn't happened yet; the paper just likes being sensationalistic.

I wasn't mentioned as a suspect, which is good, I suppose. Despite my recent acquaintanceship with Potter, Weasley, and Granger, my name still very dubious in the social and journalistic crowd. I could only imagine what the paparazzi would write if they learned I was a suspect.  _Mr Malfoy, why did you kill her? Mr Malfoy, how did you do it? Mr Malfoy, did you miss your old Death Eater days?_

The article did ask for people with information to contact Pantera. I hope someone comes forward.

_Later_

I'll have to write letters to Scorpius and Livia about Titania. It's not as though they were close or anything, but they did like her. No sense in pulling them out of school for the funeral. Daphne and Astoria will handle that, I suppose. The Greengrass elders are all long dead.

* * *

_November 18, 2018_

She was going to come by sooner or later, I guess.

I never changed the wards after the divorce. Astoria let herself in, and I didn't even know until she was standing in my study doorway. This was a few hours ago – she's asleep on the couch now. She charged in without so much as a "hello", although she's pretty upset so I can't blame her.

"Draco."

She looked both more and far less beautiful than the last time I'd seen her. Her hair was more styled and her clothes a bit sharper, but she's lost so much weight and her skin's a lot more pale than it ever was. She'd been crying. I didn't say anything when she walked closer. "Titania's dead, Draco."

I was sitting behind my desk at that time. I stood up and walked around it to face her. "I know. I'm sorry."

"You were the last person to see her." Her jaw tightened. "Draco, please.  _Please_  tell me you didn't have anything to do with it. Please tell me you didn't do it."

I closed the distance between us and took her hands. "Astoria. I swear I didn't kill her."

The thing about Astoria is that she always knows when I'm lying, but I can never tell when  _she's_  lying. Livia got that particular talent from her. Astoria stared at me for a long few seconds, then burst into tears.

I'm still mad at her for what she did, to me and to the kids – especially to Livia. But she was my wife for fourteen years and I did love her. Part of me still loves her. She burst into tears before me, and I held her until she could talk.

"She's dead," Astoria sobbed into my shoulder. "How can she be dead?"

I remember stroking her hair. "I'm so sorry, Astoria."

"But  _how_?" she cried. "How could she have been murdered?  _Strangled_ , they said! How? Her wand was found in her clothes! Pantera – he said that it implied she knew her killer and trusted them."

I scowled. "Pantera thinks it was me."

Astoria sniffed. "It looks bad, Draco."

Of course it looks bad. Last person to see her alive, clearly has a grudge with her cousin, someone she knew and trusted. "I know." I sighed. "Astoria, listen… I ran into her at the speed-dating night and I left the place with her, but I didn't stay with her. I left her and went home. Maybe if I'd stayed…" I looked away and waited for her to scream at me.

I really need to stop assuming the worst in her. She's a selfish bitch when she wants to be, but I did love her for a reason.

"You couldn't have known," she actually said, and held back another sob. "Although… speed-dating, Draco?" she added, wiping her eyes. "Really?"

I decided not to retort about Krum. I shrugged instead, because, yeah, speed-dating. "Well. It's been quiet without the kids."

In other words: I'm lonely.

She looked away. "How's Livia?"

"What do you care?"

In hindsight, that was harsh. She flinched. "Draco, please. I don't want to fight. Not tonight."

She swayed on her feet at that. From sheer force of habit, I steadied her and made her sit down on the couch. "When did you last eat or sleep?" I asked.

"A few nights ago, when I got the news."

"Stay here," I ordered. "I'll get some tea and sandwiches."

I've been getting better at making food. So, yes, I'm only good at sandwiches so far, but it's a start. Tonight is the House Elves' night off. (They're required by law to have one night off every week, thanks to Granger.) I made the tea and sandwiches, but when I brought them out I found Astoria had fallen asleep on the couch. I ate one of the sandwiches and sat next to her. I'm still next to her, actually. I should probably move her to a proper bed soon. Merlin knows this house has enough beds.

_Later_

I'm old fashioned. I carried her instead of levitating her. She roused briefly, just now, when I took her to our old bedroom.

"Draco?"

"Mmm."

"M'going to find them," she mumbled. "The one who killed Titania."

I almost said, "Leave it to the Aurors," then remembered Pantera was taking the case, not Potter.

I said instead, "I'll help you."

She went back to sleep as soon as I laid her on the bed.

As if my life could get any more complicated.

 

* * *

  
**Chapter 5: from the journal of draco malfoy IV**

_November 20, 2018_

The things I get myself into.

I went with Astoria to Knockturn Alley today, early this morning, to see where Titania had been killed. Astoria asked Daphne if she wanted to come, but I think Daphne is pretending it hasn't happened and doesn't want a part in what we're doing. So it looks like it's just me, Astoria, and Pantera.

Yeah, Pantera. Three's a crowd and all that.

When we reached the place, I stayed back as Astoria stepped around the pathetic "crime scene" markings. They'd washed away anyway, from the rain. It was a sobering sight, seeing Astoria kneel on the filthy ground where Titania's body had been discovered. I think she might have been crying, but I'm not sure. I felt like I should have gone over to her or something, but an old woman (a Knockturn Alley resident, I assume, judging the state of her attire) walked past, tapping her cane against the walls and ground.

"Shame, innit," she croaked when she passed me.

I was a little sharp with her in my response: "I should think a woman's death would be more than a 'shame'."

The old woman didn't seem to notice my tone, though. "It ain't right," she muttered. "It ain't right, all those gels dying 'ere."

It took a couple of seconds for that to sink in. "What?"

"Eh!" She smacked her cane at my knee. "Yer deaf, boy! I says what I mean! It ain't right. She was only the fifth gel this year t' turn up 'ere!"

Before I could say something to Astoria, Pantera's obnoxious drawl interrupted. "Returning to the scene of the crime, Draco?"

I cannot begin to describe how much I hate him calling me 'Draco'. About as much as I hate the smell of that foul thing he smokes, perhaps, combined with the thought of having my balls caught in a rusty vice.

Okay, okay, I'm being harsh. He's not actually  _that_  bad, I don't think. Still, he was being really freaking obnoxious when he approached us, and I was ready to let him know just how much I didn't appreciate it, but Astoria rose and faced Pantera before I could do or say anything. "Actually, Auror Pantera, I asked him to accompany me."

He blinked, no doubt surprised by her presence, and had the decency to bow his head. "Ms Greengrass. I'm sorry for your loss."

She nodded tersely.

"But seriously," he said, looking back at me. "Why are you here?"

I felt like saying,  _returning to the scene of the crime, duh_ , but I don't think that would have gone down very well. "Astoria wanted to see where Titania was killed," I said truthfully instead.

"Well, we don't know she was killed  _here_ ," Pantera said. "Her body just ended up here."

"I wanted to see if anything was missed," Astoria said.

He narrowed his eyes. "I'm very thorough, Ms Greengrass," he said tightly. All Astoria did was raise an eyebrow and look away again, back at the ground.

"She must have been terrified," she murmured.

"I'm sure the other four women were terrified as well," I said. I'm not really good at being subtle. Astoria stared at me, and so did Pantera.

"How did you…?" he said.

I crossed my arms. "Didn't you think it was important, Pantera? To let us know?"

He looked back and forth between me and Astoria before frowning. "I think should both come back to my private office."

Turns out that Ignatius Pantera has his own private practice in Diagon Alley and makes extra money by taking on infidelity cases in his spare time. "I ruin marriages for a living," he explained, "but it's a lot less glamorous than you'd think."

 _This_  was the messy office. There weren't just piles of parchment; there were  _mountains_. Food wrappers and butterbeer cans and stacks of old _Daily Prophet_  newspapers, and dirty ashtrays weighing down a majority of the piles. The walls were cluttered with awards and cut out articles, and on the left wall there was a map of Wizarding Britain with bits and pieces of string pinned all over it. And I thought Potter and Weasley were slobs.

From the way Astoria's face turned into an emotionless mask, I could tell the office offended her delicate constitution.

"All right," Pantera said, slouching into a chair. "Spill. Who told you about the others?"

He did gesture for me and Astoria to sit down on the other chairs, but we stayed standing. I'm willing to sit my arse down on a lot of things these days, but that seat certainly wasn't one of them. "One of the residents of Knockturn Alley mentioned it to me. Fifth woman this year, she said."

Pantera grunted and pulled out a packet of cigarettes.

"You didn't say anything to me about it," I accused.

"Of course I didn't say anything to you. You were a suspect. Sorry," he corrected with a drawl, not sounding very sorry at all. " _Person of interest_."

"Auror Pantera," Astoria said. "Titania's murder wasn't the first in that area, then. Is it connected to the others?"

"I don't know." He flicked open his lighter and ignited the end of his cigarette. "Probably."

"Why aren't the Aurors doing something about it?"

"I  _am_  the Auror doing something about it."

"Just you?"

"Got a problem with that?"

As a matter of fact, Astoria did have a problem with that – I'd recognise that unimpressed glare anywhere. She certainly stared at me enough with it. I became immune after a decade or so, though. Pantera got the full blast. He winced and leaned against his desk.

"The thing is," he said, exhaling smoke, "I'm on my own here. When someone is murdered in the magical world, everyone assumes it was poison, or an AK, or an asphyxiation curse, or someone spelling a rope to tighten around someone's neck, or something actually  _magical_. Do you know how rare it is for someone to turn up murdered by non-magical means?" He puffed on his cigarette agitatedly. "Pretty fucking rare, let me tell you. And they still need to be investigated, so the Aurors slapped this department together. Me, I was the only one interested enough to take the job."

He glared at his certificate on the wall.

"And the pay is fucking shit," he added.

He sighed there, looking very tired for a moment.

"When did you realise there was a pattern?" I asked.

"When the third girl turned up. Honoria Heston, back in June. There was a small article on it in the  _Prophet_." I remember it briefly, but at the time I was sort of dealing with the aftermath of my son being poisoned by a psychopathic Potions teacher. "Thing is," Pantera continued, "I'm not even sure what the pattern is exactly, other than women in their late twenties."

On a hunch, I asked, "Is this why you were at the speed-dating?"

Pantera glanced at me. "Heh," he said. "Not bad, Draco. Yeah, it's why I've been going there. I think there's a connection. Now three of the five women in the last eleven months who've turned up killed in Knockturn Alley went to the speed-dating nights at some point prior to their deaths."

"So it can't be Draco," Astoria reasoned. "He's only been twice in the past two months."

"Honestly, I was hoping Titania was unconnected." He shrugged. "It'd be easier to pin the blame on him, but then I'd be letting a serial killer slip out of my grasp."

"Wow. Aren't you simply the paragon of law and justice," I said.

"Bit rich, coming from you," he said, and I'm sure the bastard glanced at my forearm before smashing his cigarette into the closest ash tray. "I've hit a dead end. Again. Same as all the other cases." He stood up and started pacing at this point, making the floor groan loudly under his weight. "See, no magic, right? So it can't be traced. No witnesses. No DNA either. I wanted to try Muggle technology," Pantera explained when Astoria and I frowned. "They can detect skin or hair and cross it against a library of peoples' biological make-up. Trouble is, us wizards? We don't have a library of DNA like the Muggles do. There weren't traces of DNA anyway – I think the killer uses gloves."

"You're sure they're connected."

"As sure as I can be right now. Thing is, I don't have the funding necessary to do what I need to do. That's why so many of my cases go cold. It's not like my department is the highest priority of the Ministry."

"Then tell us."

"I can't. Confidential. You're private citizens."

Both Astoria and myself were relatively irritated by this stage. I was busy making a mental note to pester Potter and Weasley about it until they did something, but Astoria… well. When she gets angry – not  _loses-her-temper_  angry, but full on  _hell-hath-no-fury_  angry – she doesn't yell. She doesn't even snap, or sound aggressive. She talks in this low tone, even and measured, and it's fucking scary as hell.

"Ignatius Pantera," she said, leaning close to him. "Listen to me, and listen closely. My cousin was murdered, and I will not rest until I have found her killer and brought them to justice. Don't you  _dare_  tell me that her case will go cold. You need funding? Fine. You have it. But you – you are going to get your act together and stop pitying yourself. You have a job to do and you'd better darn well do it, or so help me I will do it  _myself_. Do you understand?"

He blinked at her. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good. You can start by telling me and Draco everything you know and have so far."

So he did.

Yeah, I definitely married her for a reason.

_Later_

Oh, and Astoria is now organising the Muggleborn Fund Christmas Charity Ball.

"What do you mean you haven't done anything?"

Because I'm a useless sack of shit. According to her.

So now she's doing it because she doesn't trust me to do anything when it comes to organising functions. All she's letting me do is send out invitations, and even then the most I'm allowed to do is write peoples' names on the envelopes. I asked her what I was supposed to do at the actual function.

"Stand around and look pretty."

She's such a goddamned control freak, I swear.

I am uncertain as to whether I should be feeling relieved or insulted.

* * *

_Case Notes_

Felicity Foulton, aged 29, killed 7/1/18.  
Strangled. N struggle.  
Interviews with family conducted by IP 8/1/18.  
Y SWWSDA.  
N witnesses.

Arianna Desiree, aged 26, killed 9/3/18.  
Chest stabbed/blood loss. Y struggle, N murder weapon.  
Interview with sister conducted by IP 11/3/18.  
N SWWSDA.  
N witnesses.

Honoria Heston, aged 26, killed 16/6/18.  
Strangled. Y/N struggle?  
Interview with half-brother conducted by IP 17/6/18.  
Y SWWSDA.  
N witnesses.

Madison Levy, aged 27, killed 3/9/18.  
Blunt-force trauma to back of head. N struggle, N murder weapon.  
N interview: no relatives.  
N SWWSDA.  
N witnesses.

Titania Greengrass, aged 28, killed 14/11/18.  
Strangled. N struggle.  
Interviews with family conducted by H. Potter and IP 16/11/18.  
Y SWWSDA.  
N witnesses.

? Pattern – age? (all late-20s) – appearance? (brown hair connection? No, A. Desiree blonde.)  
Not a sexual crime / no signs of sexual assault.  
Why no struggle? IP thinks they knew their murderer. Connection: ? SWWSDA  
Astoria to look through old  _Daily Prophet_  articles.

* * *

_November 24, 2018_

"Don't you think it's a bit cold for ice cream?"

"You're being a wuss, Weasley. Man up."

I caved today and went to Diagon Alley, basically. Weasley was there, which was just a stroke of luck in my case; I had been fully prepared to sit in Fortescue's alone. He caught me up on all the latest FD gossip and the latest cases with enchanted Muggle objects wreaking havoc in Hogsmeade. I'm not even sure he and Potter  _do_  anything other than sit in their fancy Head Auror office and look important. I caught him up on Titania's murder. I don't remember the specifics of most of the conversation, though I do remember this next part. (And I really, really wish I didn't.)

"…so now I'm going to help Astoria and Pantera investigate the murders."

Weasley's eyebrows were quite high by this stage. I wanted to comment that if they went any higher, he'd give himself that new hairline he needed.

"Astoria? Really?" He sounded very unimpressed.

"Yes, really."

He crunched on his cone with his mouth open like the plebe he is. "Malfoy, you do remember that she left you for Krum and then disowned your daughter."

"Her cousin was murdered. Give her a break."

"Yeah, but…"

"She's not an ex-girlfriend, Weasley. She's my ex- _wife_. We were married for fourteen years and not all of it was bad."

Which is true; it certainly wasn't. I mentioned in an earlier entry that we didn't really marry for love, more out of convenience, but we did share a number of years where we were very happy. She's smart, Astoria. There was never a boring moment with her.

Weasley stared at me and groaned. "Oh, Merlin."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"When you lie, could you at least have the decency to  _pretend_  you're trying to make it convincing?"

"It's nothing, Malfoy!" He rubbed the back of his neck. "It's just, you know. I thought you hated her."

" _Hate_  is a strong word."

He groaned again. "Divorced men, you're all the same," he muttered, then faced me. "Look," he said, his ears turning more red than his hair, "whatever you do, just… don't sleep with her, okay? It won't turn out well."

"…Did you just give me  _relationship advice_?"

"Shut up."

"There are  _so many things wrong with that_  –"

"I said shut up!"

We sat and ate awkwardly for a couple of minutes. He  _could_  have let it drop and we  _could_  have pretended he'd never brought it up, but  _no_. He's _Weasley_ , so he has to be embarrassing and obnoxious. Him and Pantera – match made in heaven, I swear.

"Look," he eventually said again, "all I'm saying is, you've been alone for a while, yeah?"

"I don't want to  _talk_  about this, Weasley –"

"I'm just saying, you got divorced for a reason! Don't do anything stupid." He'd turned very red by that stage, and so he bloody well should have, the twat. "Um. I'll shut up now."

"Good idea," I said coldly, and ate my ice cream too quickly and gave myself brain freeze.

Astoria and I did divorce for a reason. Not just Krum; he was a symptom of the larger disease. Astoria and I clash. She's selfish and has never pretended to be anything else, and I'm impatient and not a very nice person. In the end, we weren't what either of us wanted. I wanted a loving wife who paid attention to our kids, and she wanted a husband who paid attention to her. Also someone more charismatic. (That's not guesswork – I overheard her complaining to Daphne once. What the hell does it mean, anyway?  _Charismatic_. Aren't I charismatic? You don't recover a family name to the extent I have without charisma, in my humble opinion.)

Anyway.

Basically… I'm aiding my ex-wife and an obnoxious under-funded Auror solve a series of non-magical murders, there's a serial killer on the loose, and Ronald Weasley is giving me relationship advice.

I think my life just more complicated.

* * *

  
  
**Chapter 6: correspondence II**   
  
  


_November 29, 2018_

Pantera,

I've reviewed the notes you let me see and I can't see any other connections than SWWSDA – and even that's dubious. What did the families say? Is it possible any of the victims knew each other? They're all pretty close in age.

Astoria and I are funding you now, so is there anyone you want to bring onto the cases to help out? Hermione Granger-Weasley recommended trying a few Muggle Aurors. Apparently they're good at solving non-magical crimes.

D. Malfoy

* * *

_November 30, 2018_

Draco,

Look, I have to be careful how much I share with you. I know I'm a bit unconventional but in the eyes of the Aurors and the Ministry of Magic, you and Ms Greengrass, regardless of your status, are private citizens and there's a lot of confidential information I can't share with you.

The families I interviewed weren't very forthcoming, and you know I didn't even notice the pattern until the third girl showed up. None of the girls had enemies that their families or friends knew of. As for a profile on the killer, that's hard, because we don't know motive. It isn't sexual. Revenge crossed my mind, but without a proper lead it's hard to say what  _kind_  of revenge.

Two Muggle fuzz have been highly recommended to me – two guys called Holmes and Angel. The first is supposedly a high-functioning sociopath, and the other is this ultra-obsessive guy who's stationed at a small Muggle village called Sandford. I'm not keen on the first, and the second is busy with his own conspiracy/serial killer thing. And I don't think either of them knows about magic, which is a bit of an issue. Any other brilliant ideas, Draco? There's this American wizard, Harry Dresden, but I think he's busy averting the apocalypse or something.

Ignatius

* * *

_November 30, 2018_

Pantera,

If Astoria and I are going to help you, you need to give us more information. There are ways around confidentiality. Figure it out.

This is a series of murders. There has to be another connection. What else do we know about the girls murdered, other than their ages and connection to SWWSDA? Physical appearance? Social group? Hobbies? There's always a motive. People don't just kill for no reason. It's not sexual – so is it associative? Have you identified any "people of interest" at SWWSDA? You're not really being very inspiring, you know.

That's an emphatic "No" on Dresden – personally, I think he's a freak. Something to do with the name "Harry", I'm sure. Or maybe it's just because he's American. They're strange people, Americans. I don't trust them.

D. Malfoy

* * *

_December 2, 2018_

Dear Draco,

I've been going through all of last year's newspaper's and I've attached the articles I think are relevant. Non-magical crimes aren't especially common, but there's been a statistical spike over the past fifteen months. I've put the ones about twenty-something women at the top and the others towards the end. Frankly, it's discouraging to know that the Aurors put an imbecile in the one department that's actually active at the moment.

If you can, talk to Jessica Altar and Catherine Nightingale – they were Titania's best friends from Hogwarts, according to her old letters that I've been going through. They might be able to tell you things Daphne and I don't know, and maybe something about the other women. Felicity Foulton, I think, would have been in their year at Hogwarts or the year above.

Normally I wouldn't be so insistent, but I'm worried. There's a serial killer out there, Draco. What if there are other victims Pantera has missed? He doesn't exactly strike me as the cleanest wand in the window.

Look over the articles, but don't bother me for the next couple of weeks unless it's important or about Titania – I'm extremely busy with the Muggleborn Fund Christmas Charity Ball organisations at the moment.

Astoria

* * *

_December 3, 2018_

Miss Livia Malfoy  
Ravenswood College, Old Church Road  
Pembury, Tunbridge Wells  
Kent TN2 4AX, England

Dear Livia,

I wish Muggle post wasn't so slow; I have no idea what you've been up to recently! I've missed your letters, Livia, almost as much as I've missed you around the house. Has anything interesting been happening at your school lately? I hope your classes have been going well. Have you been making many friends?

The house has been less quiet than it has been; Astoria placed herself in charge of organising the Muggleborn Fund Christmas Charity Ball which is being hosted at the manor. Don't worry, though – I doubt you'll cross paths with her. At any rate, she does send her regards. (Don't feel compelled to send them back.)

After the function, did you want to invite Hugo Weasley over to stay a night or two? I'm afraid we can't have any of your Muggle friends over unless they already know about magic.

Before I forget, is there anything you'd like for Christmas?

I miss you and I'm looking forwards to seeing you again.

Much love,

Your father

* * *

_December 4, 2018_

Dear Miss Altar,

Please forgive my forwardness, but I was told to contact you by Astoria Greengrass. My name is Draco Malfoy, and I was wondering if I would be able to ask you a few questions about Titania Greengrass. I am under the impression that you were a close friend of hers. Please accept my condolences for her loss. If it is agreeable with you to talk, please reply as soon as you can.

Sincerely,

Draco Malfoy

* * *

_December 5, 2018_

Mr Malfoy,

Thanks for the letter. I'm fine to talk about Titania with you, but I can't promise answers to questions you'll ask. I'm away for Christmas and the New Year but I'll be back at the end of January. If you still want to talk then, send me another letter.

Jessica Altar

* * *

_December 7, 2018_

Mr Draco Malfoy  
Malfoy Manor  
Salisbury  
Wiltshire SP5 5QG, UK

Dear Daddy,

I've missed your letters too! Muggle Internet and email is very fast. Maybe we should get that instead?

I had a really exciting week! Our school had a visit from the Muggle Prime Minister! His name is Adam Young and he's always in the newspapers. He didn't talk about politics, though. He came to talk to us about setting goals and striving for the highest and making our own paths. He was a very good speaker! I think he'd be good in the magical world. Muggle Prime Ministers know about magic, don't they? They'd have to! I remember something from the  _Daily Prophet_  about it. It'd be important for Magical-Muggle relations.

School's been going really well but I'm glad the term is almost over. I miss home an awful lot. Getting your letter made me very happy. Classes are still fun. Science is very challenging, but it's sort of the Muggle version of magic and very interesting.

Please tell Astoria I have received her regards.

Yes! Yes, please can we have Hugo over? I haven't seen him in a very long time and he hasn't come over to our house yet!

Can you please get me  _The Lord of the Rings_  trilogy for Christmas? Or even  _The Hobbit_. They should have it in Flourish  & Blotts, in the Muggle literature section, but if they don't you can always come to Kent and visit a Muggle bookshop with me before we go home!

I'll see you very soon. I miss you too!

Love from Livia

* * *

_December 7, 2018_

Mr Draco Malfoy  
Malfoy Manor  
Salisbury  
Wiltshire SP5 5QG, UK

Dear Mr Malfoy,

This letter is to inform you of your daughter's progress since commencing the school year, and to advise you for the dates of the school holidays.

Livia's progress this term has been very pleasing. She was a little lost at first with the classwork, but my fellow teachers understand that she has been home-schooled her whole life and was therefore merely unused to school hours and structure. I am happy to say that she picked up quickly. Livia is a very bright young woman, and is very well read; she is excelling in History and English and Beginner's French. Over the holidays, I recommend she familiarise herself with works by playwrights Shakespeare, Arthur Miller, and Oscar Wilde, and the literature of J. R. R. Tolkien and Roald Dahl. I also recommend that she review her science classwork over the holidays, as science is her weakest subject; nevertheless, she is an enthusiastic learner.

Livia has made friends quickly and socialises well. She's quite the actress, but I suspect you already knew that.

We hope she is enjoying her time at Ravenswood College.

The official pick-up date for students returning home for the Christmas holidays is Friday December 14, between the hours of 8:30 am and 7:30 pm. We look forwards to seeing you then. Please be advised that the next school term commences on Tuesday January 8, 2019.

Yours sincerely,

Marian Halcombe  
Deputy Head of the Department of EMPA

PS: Normally these days email is commonplace for contacting parents of students; however, you left no email contact with the school. Is the Internet another thing you don't have, Lord Malfoy? It's been a while since I've had to hunt down a postage stamp!

* * *

_December 8, 2018_

Dear Dad,

Hope you've been well. Sorry I haven't written lately. I don't really have an excuse, because school's been pretty boring lately. I think Lysander's right – last year was more exciting, even if students were getting poisoned. But don't worry – I've been behaving, I promise. No detentions or anything! I did try out for the Ravenclaw Quidditch team and I made reserve Chaser. When Quentin Brackshott is sick for a match or leaves next year I'll take his place! Albus tried out for the team as well and made reserve Seeker, so next year he'll be competing against James and a lot of his Weasley cousins.

Rose thinks we're all insane, of course, but she's really good at flying. We tried to make her try out for the Gryffindor team but she says she has too much schoolwork to concentrate on. If you think I read too much, you haven't seen Rose. I swear she'll make herself sick from all those books sometimes. Lorcan doesn't care much for Quidditch.

I'm looking forwards to coming hope for Christmas this year. I miss Livia lots. I was wondering, could I invite Albus over sometime during the break? Lorcan and Lysander are going to Australia with their parents over the break.

Love,

Scorpius

* * *

_December 9, 2018_

Dear Scorpius,

I can't exactly fault you. Things at home have been quite dull without you and your sister, although I wouldn't go so far as to hope for another mass-drugging and student-poisoning plot. It's been a bit busier lately, though; your mother, regardless of our lack of marital status, tore every bit of organisational duty from me and is single-handedly pulling together the Muggleborn Fund Christmas Charity Ball. She sends her love to you.

Congratulations on making the Quidditch team! I'm sure you and Albus will be great next year, when you become the official Chaser and Seeker. Be careful on the pitch – it can get a bit brutal depending on who you're up against. My father, for instance, was always concerned for me when I took a fall or was knocked off my broom. (Although in hindsight I think he was more concerned about the family jewels than he was about me.) Perhaps you ought to wear glasses or tinted goggles to prevent yourself from going blind from all the red hair you'll inevitably see on the Gryffindor team.

I will ask Mr Potter about Albus coming over sometime over the December holidays. It will have to be after the Muggleborn Fund function, of course, but I'm sure something can be sorted out.

I'll pick you up from the Platform. It'll be good to have you and your sister home again for Christmas.

Love,

Your father

* * *

_December 10, 2018_

Dear Mr and Mrs Potter,

You are cordially invited to the 17th Annual Muggleborn Fund Christmas Charity Ball.

 _Date:_  December 22, 2018

 _Time:_  6:30 p.m.

 _Place:_  Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire

Floo lines will be open and Portkeys will be made available. You may also arrive by Ministry or personal automobile transport. Please RSVP by December 15.

Merry Christmas, and we look forwards to seeing you on the night.

* * *

_December 10, 2018_

Dear Mr Weasley and Mrs Granger-Weasley,

You are cordially invited to the 17th Annual Muggleborn Fund Christmas Charity Ball.

 _Date:_  December 22, 2018

 _Time:_  6:30 p.m.

 _Place:_  Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire

Floo lines will be open and Portkeys will be made available. You may also arrive by Ministry or personal automobile transport. Please RSVP by December 15.

Merry Christmas, and we look forwards to seeing you on the night.

* * *

_December 12, 2018_

Yo, Malfoy, Hermione and I are RSVPing for the Muggleborn Fund thing!

R. Weasley

* * *

_December 12, 2018_

Dear Mr Malfoy,

I apologise for my husband's less-than-formal letter. This is our official RSVP to the Muggleborn Fund Christmas Charity Ball on the night of December 22.

Yours sincerely,

Hermione Granger-Weasley

* * *

_December 13, 2018_

Malfoy,

Thought it might be easier to RSVP directly to you. Ginny and I are coming to the function.

H. Potter

PS: Cutting it a bit close though, aren't you?

* * *

_December 15, 2018_

Malfoy,

Do your kids need a sitter for the Muggleborn Fund night? If so, I've got Teddy Lupin and Victoire Weasley to keep an eye on my kids and Ron's and Hermione's kids already. Teddy and Victoire are happy enough to watch Scorpius and Livia as well.

H. Potter

PS: Hey, could you sneak me some chocolate on the 22nd? Ginny's got me on some horrible low-cholestrol, no-sugar diet and Hermione has forbidden Ron from giving me ice cream.

* * *

_December 16, 2018_

Potter,

I am dubious about the ability of a twenty-year-old man and his girlfriend to watch over seven children for a night; however, one of them is a Weasley and undoubtedly has experience in catering to the needs of an obscene number of offspring. Generations of practice and all that. I thank them for the offer and accept. What are their hourly rates?

D. Malfoy

PS: You realise the position you've put me in, Potter? I could either stand idly by and laugh at your misfortune, or I could take pity on you and feed you the cheapest and most awful chocolate possible, knowing full well you wouldn't be able to resist it because you're so desperate.

* * *

_December 17, 2018_

Malfoy,

I hope you know what you've done. Teddy saw your letter first and is now demanding 20 galleons an hour! You've no-one to blame but yourself. (For the record, I blame you too!)

H. Potter

PS: You know, I  _used_  to wonder why the Hat put you in Slytherin. You never seemed particularly cunning in school. Making up for lost time or something?

* * *

_December 18, 2018_

Potter,

Well, I wasn't about to make him look after my children for a night for free. Do you mean to tell me you have been using him as cheap labour all these years? Whether you or I like it or not, Mister Lupin is a cousin of mine on my mother's side – no respectable Black descendent should be forced to work as a House Elf.

Oh, wait, even the House Elves get wages now, don't they? Shame on you.

D. Malfoy

PS: Me, cunning? You flatter me, Potter.

PPS: Astoria has informed me there is chocolate fondue on the dessert menu.

* * *

_December 19, 2018_

Malfoy,

His payment was in the form of learning responsibility and getting emotional and spiritual fulfilment from spending quality time with children. Now he's decided to start charging money. I despair for his future. If he ends up becoming a corrupt money-hungry, greedy capitalist in a suit with some high Ministry position, it's all your fault. Anyway, you can drop off Livia and Scorpius any time in the afternoon of the 22nd. Teddy and Victoire will handle dinner for the kids.

H. Potter

PS: Yeah, I can see you blushing from here.

PPS: Would you be offended if I declared undying love for your bigoted bitch of an ex-wife?

* * *

_December 20, 2018_

Dear Draco

Well, I hope you appreciate all my work on the function. You just  _had_  to leave it all to the last minute, didn't you? I've been working all month to get this set up. Don't you dare complain about any of it, because if you do I swear I'll hex your balls off. I know you're not using them.

I'm just writing to let you know that I won't be there, but you can Floo me if anything goes wrong. Are Scorpius and Livia going to be there?

Astoria

* * *

_December 21, 2018_

Dear Astoria,

Thank you for organising the function. As I live in futile hope that I might get to use my balls again one day, there are no complaints from me.

The kids are staying at the Potters' house for the night of the function. Come along tomorrow. You organised the thing, so you should at least be there for it. Pantera will be there as well, so it might be a good idea to talk about the cases together.

Draco

* * *

  
  
**Chapter 7: from the journal of draco malfoy V**

_December 14, 2018_

I picked Livia up early this morning, to give me time to get to the station for Scorpius. Nothing particularly eventful happened (thank goodness; I'm busy enough as it is). Miss Halcombe was waiting with Livia and some of the other girls.

"Good morning, Lord Malfoy," she greeted. "I hope you received my letter without hassle."

"Oh, uh, no, it's just 'Mr'. Mr Malfoy is fine," I said. "And I did, thank you. I apologise for making you hunt for a postage stamp."

"No, it's fine. We're very dedicated here at Ravenswood," she added with a grin. She then looked over my shoulder, behind me, and seemed to bite back a smile. "You've quite the crowd of admirers," she said in a low tone.

"What?" I glanced over to where she gestured and found a group of mothers (presumably single), with their daughters, tittering and watching me.

"That's Livia's dad, Livia says he's divorced –" one of the girls said, a bit too audibly. Her mother covered her mouth and whispered something to some of the others, and then winked at me. Another waved and eyed me up. I'm sure I was flushing when I turned back to Miss Halcombe, who was entirely far too amused for the situation.

"Perhaps you should go over and talk to them," Miss Halcombe teased.

I rubbed my temple. "You're enjoying this."

She spared me a moment of amusement before changing the tone. "On a slightly more serious note, Mr Malfoy, I couldn't help but notice over this term that Livia seemed to be quite unfamiliar with common household items." She raised her eyebrows. "Do you not own a television? Or have the Internet, or own common kitchen appliances?"

"We have a toaster," I said weakly, and slapped together a lie. I'm good at thinking on my feet. "We're – uh – we're working on getting more technology installed. The house I live in is very old and doesn't support a lot of technology. My parents were a bit backwards, shall we say –" Technically  _not_  a lie. "– and it's only recently I've been able to get, uh, people in to assess the safety of the house and whether or not it'll be able to support a television and Internet."

I've been doing some reading. I know what those are now.

Miss Halcome just watched me silently with this strange half-smile.

"So, uh, we're waiting on that," I added, extraordinarily lamely.

She just continued to silently gaze at me in this semi-amused way.

"…You don't believe me, do you."

"Not in the slightest, Mr Malfoy," she replied, but she was smiling which I suppose is a good thing. I've heard Muggles can get quite jumpy about anything seeming out of the ordinary and scream for their own Aurors. Miss Halcombe didn't seem to be trigger-happy or too concerned, which meant I didn't have to Obliviate her (which would have been a shame, to mess around with a mind like hers). If anything, she seemed almost charmed by my ineptitude, as opposed to being charmed by Livia's acting talents which is usually the case.

Sharp, is Marian Halcombe. I may have to end up installing Muggle technology into the Manor so that Livia is less conspicuous over the next years.

Before Livia and I departed – in another Ministry car, because the Muggles would certainly notice if I pulled out a Portkey – Miss Halcombe bid her farewell then said to me, "You know, I didn't think people like you existed anymore."

"Luddites? Oh, we're everywhere."

"I suppose you all attend Luddites Anonymous on a monthly basis."

"Something like that."

She smiled and bid Livia and I farewell. She has a nice smile. Presumably I'll see Miss Halcombe again next month when I drop Livia off for the next school term.

I did end up checking Flourish & Blotts for the books Livia wanted, and they did have them, but I thought it would be nicer to take Livia to a Muggle bookshop in Kent. See, I'm learning. They have very strange books and I'll still never get over the fact that the pictures in the books don't move. But I suppose Muggles have other pictures that move, like their televisions and Internet. Livia calls it "you tube", which I still don't exactly understand, but she seems to know what she's talking about which is what counts, I suppose.

Anyway, the bookshop. As Miss Halcombe suggested, I bought Livia the books by Tolkien and Roald Dahl, and couple of plays by the playwrights she talked about in her letter. They look interesting, actually; I might read over them if I ever have the time.

I also gave her a copy of  _Tales of Beedle the Bard_  that I picked up a couple of weeks ago – the new revised/translated version with notes from Dumbledore before his death. Father forbade me from reading them when I was younger, and I can see why now: according the notes, father attempted to ban  _The Fountain of Fair Fortune_  for depicting "interbreeding between wizards and Muggles". To which Dumbledore apparently replied that there is not a witch or wizard in existence whose blood has not mingled with that of Muggles.

And that… might sort of make sense. A bit. How else could Livia be non-magical? I know better now than to suggest that Muggleborns 'steal' magic from Purebloods. There was a theory that Squibs who embraced the Muggle world eventually had great-grandchildren who were magical, because the magical gene carried down the generations. Can the opposite be possible – a non-magical gene carrying down generations? Livia tells me that Muggles are very advanced when it comes to understanding genetics, something about dominant and recessive genes. It may be worth looking into, if I ever have the time.

The bookshop also had some books on Muggle aircraft. Not that I bought any, that is. I'm merely recording it here as a matter of vague interest.

Things to do:

1\. File articles Astoria sent me / make copies (draw connection?)  
2\. Attempt to help with Muggleborn Fund Christmas Charity Ball preparations  
3\. Keep children away from Astoria  
4\. Find a sitter for the kids on the function night  
5\. Make Pantera do something useful somehow

_Case notes:_

– Identify suspects from SWWSDA  
– Set a date to meet Jessica Altar  
– Contact Catherine Nightingale  
– Find out if there is a January SWWSDA meeting

* * *

_December 22, 2018_

Well, the kids are off at the Potters' and I'm waiting for the first of the guests to show up. Astoria is, as usual, having her last-minute panic attack before a large function. I keep telling her everything is fine and that she's done a lovely job (and she really has; the place looks amazing) but she's not listening.

Now, the Potters. When I got there with my over-excited children in tow, I had to knock on the door three times before anyone came. I suspect it was merely because they didn't hear; the house sounded like another Wizarding World War had erupted. Potter opened the door, exposing me to a lot of yelling and a lot of red hair.

"Hi," he said distractedly and very out of breath. His hairline is receding as well, now. Ha.

"Good afternoon," I'd said, the same time Livia and Scorpius said, "Hi, Mr Potter!"

"Er, please come in –" he said, and that was the last I saw of my children for the evening. Potter rubbed the back of his neck. "Er. Wanna come in?"

"Just for a moment. I have to get back to the Manor. But thanks. And, uh," I peered over his shoulder and caught a quick flash of Livia's platinum-blonde hair and Hugo Weasley's shocking red hair as they ran amok through the house, "thanks for taking my children."

"Don't thank me. Thank Teddy if he's still alive by the end of tonight." A small explosion rocked the house. Potter sighed and pressed is forehead against the doorframe. "Teddy," he called out behind him in a long-suffering tone, "can you please go make sure Albus is still alive?"

Teddy from the depths of the house yelled something about stopping James from releasing a bludger in the kitchen, and Potter groaned. Suddenly, I was somewhat dubious about leaving my children there. (Speaking of Teddy Lupin: I am now 160 Galleons lighter than I was this morning. I sincerely hope his babysitting skills are up to scratch, relative or not.)

I had my eyebrows raised. "Really, Potter?"

"It was the compromise," he explained, closing the door behind me. "Albus doesn't get detention for a term, and he gets to play with potions."

"Was that… wise?"

"He's become a very convincing debater of late. I blame your son."

Oh, the pride. There was another small explosion and I looked up warily. "Um. I hope your son doesn't have anything deadly up there."

Potter snorted. "With a middle name of Severus? Don't bet on it."

I refrained from mentioning that he brought it upon himself, in that case. Potter excused himself to charge upstairs where, alarmingly, smoke had started pouring  _down_  from. I really didn't want to know how. And then I had to duck a bludger.

Needless to say, my children fell in love at first sight. My ability to ever extract them from the Potter House of Horrors will be tested in the next few days, I'm certain.

_Later (7:20 pm)_

Well, so far so good. I'm hiding in the guest bathroom right now, with my journal. Don't judge me, damn it. I just need a bit of a breather. Yeah, fifty minutes in. Endurance: I have it.

Weasley and Granger were amongst the first to arrive. Unsurprising, as Granger is one of the other Muggleborn Fund benefactors.

"Hey, Malfoy, 'sup!" Weasley said, and Granger looked highly unimpressed by her husband's attempt at teenage jargon.

"The place looks lovely, Draco," Granger said politely. I knew what she was really saying: it doesn't look anything like it did all those years ago. I nodded in thanks.

"I can't take the credit, I'm afraid. Astoria did most of the decorations."

Granger raised an eyebrow. "Yes, I heard from Ron that you and she were working together. Are you sure that's, well, a good idea?"

Well, no. I'm not sure it's a good idea, but I said, "It's just for Titania's death and the function," anyway. More people started arriving by this stage and I didn't want anyone to seize the chance to paste my personal life all over the  _Daily Prophet_. I ended the conversation with, "I'll explain a bit more later. If you would care for some champagne and an entrée, please help yourself."

Weasley looked like he dearly wanted to interrogate me. That man lives and breathes for gossip, I swear. Thankfully Granger, bless her good sense, dragged her husband away to get some food into him and let me greet the rest of the guests. I didn't know half of them, I swear, but most were benefactors and their family and friends, and a few Ministry people, including Shacklebolt, Fallone, and the Zabinis.

Also, Potter is now (sort of) in my debt.

Potter and Ginny arrived a little later than others, looking slightly worse for wear. "Mrs Potter," I said to Mrs Potter when she turned her back on Potter who promptly seized the chance to dive to the food table.

"Malfoy," she replied.

I haven't had much of a real chance to talk to Ginny Potter. There was Potter's birthday party, which was… cautiously fun. Aside from the occasional run-in, though, we haven't had much to do with each other. There was that awkward conversation at the party (although honestly, I think we were both a bit drunk) – "You,  _Draco Malfoy_ , are more like a cat. A small, bad-tempered house cat!"

I'm not quite sure how she got to that, but I suppose it must have made sense at the time (to her, at least). I do remember she mentioned something about leopards and not changing their spots before it, though.

"How is your Quidditch season going?" I said.

I confess, I've always had a bit of a soft spot for red-haired women.  _Women_ , mind. I have no such 'soft spot' for Ronald Weasley – I maintain he sticks out like a sore thumb and if I look at him for too long he'll make my eyes bleed. I've always sort of been fond of red-haired women, even though all shades of the colour clash with the Manor's décor: one such lady gave me a vanilla ice cream when I was lost in Diagon Alley at the age of five. I must have been crying, because I remember she also gave me her handkerchief. Father found me, of course, and made me throw the cone and handkerchief away while shouting about not taking things from strangers, but still.

Mrs Potter launched into a description of her team and the competition for the year while pretending to not notice Potter grabbing a profiterole from the table. He held a napkin up to his face as he stuffed the innocent pastry into his mouth. Mrs Potter saw me glancing at her husband over her shoulder and smirked.

"He's made it three weeks," she said in a lowered voice. "I think he's learned his lesson."

I raised my eyebrows. "I thought the 'low-cholesterol, no-sugar' diet thing was a bit odd," I contemplated, just as she pulled out a small chocolate from her pocket, unwrapped it, and popped it into her mouth. "Dare I ask what he did?"

She gave me an all-too-innocent look. "Why, Mr Malfoy, no-one did anything. I just thought it was important for him to be extra healthy for a couple of weeks."

I wrote a couple of months ago that I didn't think redheads were capable of pulling off an evil grin. I hereby retract that statement.

"Oh, and call me Ginny," Mrs Potter added firmly as she continued to ignore her husband wiping chocolate from around his mouth behind her. I think it's true what they say: wives and mothers have eyes in the backs of their heads. "If my son and niece and nephew are all BFFs with your spawn, I think it's high time I got to call you Bleach. Or Slick. How about Gel?"

"'Recede' will suffice."

She grinned. Although I feel compelled to mention, it was more of a 'let's play' kind of grin than a genuine 'you're a decent fellow, Malfoy' kind of grin. Behind her back, Potter clasped his hands together and mouthed  _I LOVE YOU_  in my direction. Honestly, I can't figure out which one of us he's in love with more: Ginny, my bigoted bitch of an ex-wife, or me.

Still, it was flattering.

_Later again (8:30 pm)_

I really should know better by now not to tempt fate. I mean, yes, it was going pretty well: I got two hours into the function without drama (a record) before getting a glass of champagne thrown in my face for my troubles.

"Death Eater! Murderer! You should be rotting in Azkaban, you fascist!"

You know, the usual. I do wish these people would come up with something more original sometimes, though.

Potter had some of his plain-clothes Aurors (Pantera, who I invited out of courtesy, and some other woman) drag the man out. Don't even know the name of the guy. I suppose he must have been someone I insulted when I was a teenager, or someone whose family was horribly traumatised by the Death Eaters and/or my father. It's okay. I've gotten used to it.

So now I'm hiding in the guest bathroom with a clean set of formal robes. And with my journal, because I'm obsessive that way.

I don't really want to go back out.

_Later again (9:45 pm)_

Something… really weird just happened to me. Not in the bad sense, just weird in the  _not expecting that at all_  sense. About twenty minutes ago. This lady came up to – don't even know who she was, but presumably I wrote her name on an invitation Astoria shoved at me – and said, "Excuse me, Mr Malfoy?"

"Yes?" I said cautiously. I noticed she was holding a glass of champagne tightly and I reflexively flinched, expecting her to throw it in my face. She didn't, although I sort of wish she had because then I'd have known how to react. Practice, you know.

She hugged me instead.

Seriously. She threw her arms around me and gave a loud sob. I sort of froze up, but I don't think she noticed that. "Er," I said, because I've been taking English lessons from Weasley.

"I – I just wanted to thank you, Mr Malfoy – thank you so much." She drew back and blew her nose on a handkerchief. "I read all about it in the _Prophet_  and  _Quibbler_ – your daughter, Livia. I can't begin to tell you how grateful I am to you."

"I –"

"My son, Jeremy – we found out he was non-magical a year ago. M-my husband left me and I didn't know what I'd do, but then I read all about you and your daughter and you gave me so much hope…"

"You're… welcome?" Thirty-plus years of public speaking training, right there.

She hugged me one more time and disappeared back into the crowd. I remember blinking and gaping after her, not sure what to say or do. Potter wasn't being of any help, the useless slob: he just smiled at me sagely and clapped a hand to my shoulder.

I had to make another escape to the guest bathroom. It's possible by this stage my guests think I have some sort of gastric problem but… I really need to be alone for a moment. I'm not shaking, but I am sort of… rattled. In a good way. I think. I guess it's just been a really long time since anyone, particularly a stranger, sincerely, honestly thanked me.

I mean, I knew I was doing something completely different (dare I say revolutionary?) with Livia. Making sure the magical world knows I, a Pureblood, accept and love my non-magical daughter and will stop at nothing to ensure she has a future in our world. I never stopped to think about other families with non-magical children. I guess… yeah, I guess I am helping them, however indirectly.

Huh.

_Later again (11:50 pm)_

I don't even really have words. I'm so tired.

It was going really well. Honestly, it was. I was in the middle of telling a joke to some people I'd never met before (they seemed to be enjoying it, though) at around 11:00 pm. You know that thing where if something can go wrong, it  _will_  go wrong? Yeah, that more or less happened. There was this high-pitched, hysterical scream and everyone stopped what they were doing. At first I thought it was a woman screaming, but it was actually a man, yelling and pointing.

_"He's bleeding! Oh my god, someone help him –"_

This young man, about mid-twenties I'd wager, staggered. It didn't even look real; I saw red everywhere and thought,  _oh, he fell in the punch_ , which was stupid because I knew what the punch looked like and it did not look like blood. The man collapsed to the marble floor in a pool of his own blood, convulsed, and went still.

And then everyone started screaming.

I know dead when I see it. That man was well and truly gone by that stage. A woman had dropped beside him to try and resuscitate him, and Weasley had to step forwards and pull her away, murmuring to her. She started wailing.

Potter touched his wand to his throat. "Everyone, please,  _keep calm_!"

There are only so many times in my life I can say I was relieved to hear Potter's Sonoroused voice booming. That's one of the good things of being friends – well, being semi-non-antagonistic-parents-of-children-who-are-friends – with Harry Potter: people listen to him. The screamed died down almost immediately, and only a few choking sobs punctuated the deathly silence. He called for order again, for people not to panic, and to move away from the deceased and remain in the manor. He sent a Patronus to the Ministry to call for backup. Aurors quickly flooded my house, ushering everyone into adjacent rooms for questioning. It all happened very quickly. Felt like it, anyway. I mostly stood there uselessly as Pantera, Weasley, and two other Aurors I didn't remember inviting knelt beside the body.

"You know him?" I remember asking, and Potter nodded.

"This is Jonathan Cavalier."

I vaguely remember writing his name on a letter Astoria shoved at me.

Potter met my gaze. "Benedict Cavalier's son – you gave me that name. He has – had," Potter corrected, looking at the corpse with remorse, "known Death Eater ties. But identification isn't the issue. It's who gets to take the case."

"Please tell me you don't draw straws," I really wanted to say. I didn't, because Pantera heard Potter talking and stood up to face us.

"This is a non-magical crime," Pantera said, sounding like a child who didn't get a present on Christmas. Which is ridiculous, because I think he has plenty of work  _already_. "Look at him! He was stabbed – no magic at all! That puts it in  _my_  jurisdiction."

"Normally, yes," Potter said calmly, "but I have reason to believe that Mister Cavalier's death has FD ties, which puts it in my jurisdiction, Auror Pantera."

Pantera crossed his arms. "You got proof?" He was such a tart.

Potter was not impressed by his attitude. "If I don't find it in the next couple of weeks, I'll turn it over to you. Besides, you're busy with your serial killer. I think that's what you need to concentrate on right now."

"Easier said than done, sir," Pantera said, glancing at me. "We're at something of a standstill. The only lead I have is the speed dating agency, and it's not turning up much."

It's none of our faults, really. Astoria and I have been busy with the (now ruined) function, and Pantera has been doing what Pantera does best: being obnoxious. There's nothing subtle about him at all. If I think Weasley sticks out like a sore thumb, he's got nothing on Ignatius. I mean, it's no wonder he hasn't found anyone yet. It is  _so_  typical of the Aurors to shove their most useless member into the department that never gets used. And then when it actually has something to after, the department's completely incompetent. As soon as Scorpius and Livia go back to school, I have no doubt Astoria is going to drag me straight back into this headfirst.

With luck, she'll whip Pantera into shape while she's at it.

After the last of the guests were cleared out to the Ministry – presumably for interviews – Potter grabbed a statement from me and ushered me into the next room. "Look, the Manor is a crime scene," he said. "I'm going to be here all night with some Aurors." He rubbed his eyes again, looking very tired. "Don't worry about Scorpius and Livia. They can stay at my place for the entire night."

Which was very nice of him, except that I didn't have anywhere to go, and I wasn't about to ask to crash at Potter's or Weasley's place.

"You can stay with me, if you want." I looked around and saw Astoria behind me, hugging herself and looking very lost. I recognised the tone – she didn't want to be alone. More selfishness. But it wasn't as though I could be mad at her. I didn't want to be alone either.

"All right."

So we Apparated after Potter gave us leave (while also giving me a completely justified very odd look), and I'm at Astoria's apartment in Dorset. It's a nice little place, if a bit small, but she's  _graciously_  allowed me to have the couch for one night. The unspoken rule between is that we just don't mention the kids. She won't ask about them, I won't glare and get hissy at her. The kids, especially Livia, are no longer her concern, just as she is no longer Livia's concern. The only reason we're being civil is because of Titania.

Thing is –

_[journal entry interrupted; incomplete]_

* * *

_December 23, 2018_

I really should have listened to Weasley.

Seriously. I'm screwed. Figuratively  _and_  literally.

I heard Astoria crying last night. Not fake attention-seeking crying, but an actual, emotional sob. I know what those sound like. So I went into her bedroom to see her.

"Are you okay?"

"N-no," she said. "I'm a horrible person."

I didn't say anything, which was probably a better move than me saying, "Well, yeah." I don't think that would have helped anything.

She sobbed some more into a handkerchief. "I'm not even upset someone died, Draco – I'm upset because the  _function_  was ruined. All that work I put into it, and it turns into a  _crime scene_!" She wept some more.

"That was really inconsiderate of the victim, wasn't it."

"Piss off, Draco!"

Except I didn't piss off, because she cried some more and I sat next to her on the bed and hugged her, and then realised it wasn't about the function at all, or about Krum or Titania or the kids. She was lonely. Really lonely. And upset and shaken and all that usual stuff that people are supposed to feel after really long, taxing days and seeing people die.

And, er. So was I?

Which is the lamest excuse ever. I mean,  _Merlin's saggy left testicle_. What kind of messed up loser sleeps with their ex-wife? Besides me?

I'm so pathetic.

Should have listened to Weasley. I mean, it figures, right? I woke up this morning and she was gone. Didn't leave a note or anything. Frankly, it was the best sex we've had in years, but really, would a "Thanks for the fuck, Draco, now don't come back," be too much to ask for? That, at least, I could have understood. Now it's vague between us. I don't like vague.

I guess I'd better go and pick up my kids before they and the Potter/Weasley and Weasley/Granger spawn destroy the village. Potter should be finished at the Manor by now.

* * *

_25 December, 2018_

Today, at least, passed without hassle. Sort of. Potter invited the kids and me over to his place for Christmas dinner, which was exceedingly nice of him. (I mentioned that I was planning on inviting them over to the Manor during the break, but the murder halted that. Potter took pity on me.) I think I'm something of a pet to Potter, Weasley, and Granger. They've  _all_  adopted me. Which is nothing short of mortifying. At least I get free food out of it.

Livia and Scorpius were more than happy, of course. They've taken a liking for Potter's House of Death, Doom and Destruction.

"How've you been going with the Jonathan Cavalier murder?" I asked Potter when we had a moment alone.

"Not well."

"Suspects?"

"Some from the charity, and we've been given permission by the Ministry to use Veritaserum. So far, nothing's come up." Potter looked like he hadn't slept for the past couple of nights. He hid a yawn. "Not even a murder weapon has turned up yet. No-one left the crime scene, which means one of the party guests was definitely the murderer."

"There were about a hundred people there, Potter."

"I know." He groaned and cracked his shoulders. "And of course there's no connection with FD. I might have to turn the case over to Pantera after all."

"He's useless, Potter."

"I  _know_. Look, I  _want_  to expand the department, but there are only so many people willing to get involved in non-magical crimes."

"If you give him Cavalier's case, he's going to drop Titania's."

"You're working on it, aren't you?"

Well, yes, but it's nice to have official ties. And then I realised Potter was silently giving  _me_  permission to take the reins.

The shit I get myself into. I shouldn't be allowed to leave the house, ever.

The kids played nicely together while I helped Ginny in the kitchen. Tried to help, anyway. She wouldn't let me touch the food (even though I  _have_ been getting better with cooking lately). She didn't believe me when I said that, though. I think women just default to Control Freak mode when men try to get involved. But she did let me help set the table.

"Shame about the party," Weasley said over dinner. "I was having fun."

"Astoria was very upset about what happened," I murmured. Which wasn't a lie – she  _was_  upset about the function being ruined.

"What is with her, anyway?" Ginny Potter demanded, brandishing a fork at me. "I thought you hated her!"

"That's what I said," Weasley added.

"She isn't making things difficult for Livia, is she?" Granger asked.

I remember clearing my throat and avoiding eye contact with them. "I'm just working with her to find Titania's killer," I said, extremely convincingly. "She hasn't had any contact with Livia since last year. And ever since Krum left her, she's been lonely, and… she's not  _evil_ , she's just not very nice. And lonely."

There was a short pause. "You slept with her, didn't you," Weasley said, and Potter choked on his wine. I sat there and spluttered like the stupid idiot I am.

"Um," I said.

Weasley groaned. "Malfoy, you  _idiot_."

For once, I completely agreed with him.

"Draco, what about Livia?" Granger said. "Astoria disowned her."

I held up my hands. "Look. Astoria Greengrass was a woman I married for convenience, not love, a long time ago. She is a horrible, selfish person and just isn't a good mother. If it ever comes down to it, I will always choose my children. Right now, though, she's more of a… I don't know, an acquaintance. Someone I'm helping out." I sighed. "The kids don't know, and I'd like it to stay that way."

"You are  _so_  messed up," Weasley announced, like it was a new revelation or something.

Ginny poured me some more wine. I really did need it.

* * *

  
  
**Chapter 8: from the journal of draco malfoy VI**

_January 10, 2019_

Well, I saw both of my kids off to their respective schools again today and already I miss them, but I'm not struck by that overwhelming boredom I was in September last year. Scorpius was first, as usual. Another last-minute rush occurred this morning but I'm getting better at it, I think.

"Have another safe term, all right?" I told Scorpius before he was due to get on the train. I don't think he was too happy at being dragged away from Albus and Rose for me to do my Fatherly Speech Thing, because he rolled his eyes. I think he's going through that stage in his life where he just doesn't want parental advice anymore.

" _Okay_ , Dad. Stop embarrassing me! I'll be good."

"And don't forget to write!"

"All right!"

He let me hug him, at least. I doubt I'll be able to do that again for a few years though, now that he considers himself a teenager. He considers himself too old for Dad's hugs, I guess. At least Livia is still receptive. After we dropped Scorpius off at the platform and saw him onto the Hogwarts Express, we took another Ministry car. It was in the afternoon by the time we got to Pembury, but boarding girls were still arriving and Miss Halcombe was there.

"Hello again, Mr Malfoy," she said after greeting Livia and welcoming her back. "How was your Christmas?"

"Primitive," I quipped, earning a grin from her.

"Ah, a Christmas Luddites Anonymous gathering. Did you enjoy it?"

"I did. We sat around in rocking chairs and talked about horse-drawn carriages. None of this  _car_  nonsense…"

"Is that so?" she said. "Well, Mr Malfoy, the next time you come to pick Livia up I fully expect you to arrive in a horse-drawn carriage. I'll be very disappointed if you don't!"

I laughed, but I'm actually half considering it.

"In all seriousness, though, Christmas was quite eventful." Which is one way of putting it, I guess. I wasn't about to tell her that my house had become a crime scene, because there's no way I'd be able to go into that without explaining why it didn't make Muggle newspapers, etc etc. And I  _certainly_  didn't tell her that I was vaguely getting along with my ex-wife who I haven't seen since I slept with her after said house-turning-into-crime-scene-thing. "How was yours?"

"Quiet," she said, "but peaceful. It's good to get back into work, actually. I tend to get quite bored over the holidays."

I can relate.

On another semi-related note, I've entertained the idea of buying a house in Muggle Kent, for conveniences's sake. Muggle technology is  _not_ going to work in the Manor; there's too much magical interference. With a Muggle house, with the Floo connected to the Manor, Livia could have a home in both worlds, close to her school and with the Muggle things she needs. And Scorpius has been disturbingly enthusiastic about it all as well, so, I don't know. Internet and television and the like. I don't pretend to understand a word of what my kids say half the time, but apparently some wizarding households are trying to adapt to Muggle technology as well. Imagine the absolute stir I'd make if I did buy a house in the Muggle world.

There I go, planning controversies again. I think I'm an addict.

(But it's just something to think about, nothing concrete.)

When I finally got home, Astoria was waiting for me. It was the first time I've seen her since we slept together, so of course I stood there stupidly for a couple of seconds to register her presence and pull out that speech I'd been mentally rehearsing.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi," I said as well.

She bit her lip. "Draco –"

"Stop, Astoria." I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose and started to recite (and mangle) my speech. "Look, the other night… I'm sure we both weren't, uh, exactly thinking straight. I mean, it was nice and all, but it, it isn't going to happen again. All right? We cut ties like that a long time ago – before you left me, and definitely before you disowned my daughter. I won't do it to the kids."

At least I finished on a strong note. Astoria wore her unimpressed and upset face, which consisted of her pinching her lips and looking pale. "Fine," she said stiffly. "It wasn't that good, anyway."

Ouch. "Well, it was your fault for having high expectations. I am a bit out of practice."

That, at least, made us both smile. Anyway, I invited her in properly.

"You'd have dropped Livia off at her school today," she said.

"I did," I said warily.

She averted her gaze, trying to look disinterested. "Good school?"

"The best," I said, and she nodded and didn't say anything else.

I don't  _want_  to be hostile to Astoria, but it's hard to keep myself in check. This isn't the first time she's asked about Livia since disowning her. I'm starting to think that maybe… maybe she's regretting it, almost? I don't know. I won't pretend to know how Astoria's mind works.

"Are you hungry?" I asked. "I'll cook something. House Elves have the day off."

She raised an eyebrow. "You can't cook, Draco."

"Want to bet?" I said. Actually, I didn't say that because I'm not Weasley who pretends he's still a teenager. I made an omelette and it turned out beautifully, if I do say so myself. Ha.

* * *

_January 28, 2019_

Well, I finally managed to arrange a meeting with Jessica Altar, Titania's friend from school. Jessica Altar is a nice woman, if a bit plain. She let me in (I didn't go with Astoria today) and we exchanged a few pleasantries before getting down to business.

"I'd like to ask a few questions about Titania, if that's okay."

"If it wasn't, I wouldn't have invited you," she replied.

"Did she have any enemies?"

"Not that I knew of. People loved her."

She told me to take a seat while she made tea. I sat there with a pad of paper (that I'd picked up from the bookshop in Muggle Kent) and a pen (because those things are _ridiculously_  useful), looking like some amateur journalist. When Altar came back with two cups of tea, I asked, "Has Auror Pantera spoken to you prior to this?"

"Pantera?" Her forehead creased into a frown.

"The Auror in charge of Titania's case," I elaborated.

"Pantera," she murmured. "No, he hasn't."

I rolled my eyes. "Of course not."

"Will he be coming by?"

"I doubt it. I presume he'll be busy with the Cavalier murder."

"I read about that in the  _Prophet_. Poor Jonathan."

I looked up at her, startled. "You knew Cavalier?"

She handed me a cup of tea. "Well, yes, I went to Hogwarts with him. He was in the year above me. I didn't know him  _well_ , of course, but he was in my House. Slytherin." She sat down on the sofa across from me and bit her lip. "It's sad. People you knew being murdered. Felicity, Titania, now Jonathan…"

"Felicity… Foulton?" I guessed, and she nodded, lips tightening. "You knew her from school?"

"Felicity was in the year above me as well. Nice girl. She and Titania dragged me out to that speed-dating thing about a year ago. I only went once, and that was… well, the last time I saw Felicity." She had to pull out a handkerchief and wipe her eyes, which were filling with tears. "I'm sorry. It's just really hard to talk about them."

I put my teacup aside. (Not that I'd had much to drink – I don't know where Jessica Altar has been, but that was  _not_  tea. It tasted like tar. How is it possible to screw tea up like that?) "Miss Altar," I said, "Auror Pantera and I believe that Felicity's and Titania's murders are related, along with another three women. Would you please look at this list of names and tell me if you recognise any of them?"

She nodded and I passed out the parchment with eight names on it.

_Felicity Foulton (29)_

_Arianna Desiree (26)_

_Honoria Heston (26)_

_Madison Levy (27)_

_Titania Greengrass (28)_

_Jackson Mills (27)_

_Harvey Kissinger (27)_

_Michael Fitzsimons (29)_

The last three names were Astoria's find, from going through old  _Daily Prophet_  articles. Jackson Mills died in May, mugged after a potions conference. I don't know if Pantera took the case because there was no mention of him, but Mills's death was passed off as a robbery gone wrong. Harvey Kissinger was found dead in his home, shot by a Muggle handgun, in July. And Michael Fitzsimons dropped dead in Hogsmeade in October – medical examination revealed cyanide poisoning as cause of death. That last one is very dubiously on the list, though – cyanide is ridiculously old fashioned and I'm not sure if it can be classified as a magical or non-magical crime. The Aurors weren't sure either – the magical crimes unit took it and classified it as suicide.

Jessica Altar examined the list of names for a few moments and said, "Well… Michael Fitzsimons was in the year above me at school. The other names sort of look familiar but I didn't know any of them."

"Michael Fitzsimons died in October last year. He was poisoned."

"Was it murder?"

"The Aurors ruled it out as suicide."

"Michael Fitzsimons, suicide?" She shook her head. "I can't believe it."

"I'm sorry to be the one to break it to you –"

"No, I mean, I can't believe he'd ever commit suicide. He was so… confident all the time. So dominating. Walked around the school like he owned the place. Him and Jonathan. Just… doesn't seem the type to kill himself."

 _Cavalier_  and Fitzsimons? One stabbed and the other poisoned within months of each other? That couldn't be a coincidence. I wrote that down to tell Potter. Sounds like it might be an FD thing, although there's nothing to suggest Fitzsimons was linked to FD other than his friendship with Cavalier, according to Altar. "Is there anything else you can think of, Miss Altar? Anything at all?"

She shook her head. "No, nothing."

"Did you meet anyone at the speed-dating you recognised?"

"It was a year ago, Mr Malfoy. I barely remember," she said apologetically. I left shortly after that, leaving her with my address to owl me if she thought of anything else. She also gave me Catherine Nightingale's address so that I could send her a letter. Miss Nightingale lives in Germany now, so a meeting is probably out of the question, but I'm hoping she'll be good enough to answer some questions.

So this all leaves me… a little bit further in? I do know one thing, though – I think Pantera was on the right track when he targeted the speed dating as the main link between the women. It doesn't explain Madison Levy and Arianna Desiree yet, or the male murders (if they're even related), but it does mean that I'm going to have to go back to SWWSDA – this time to investigate. (Urgh.)

I can't talk to the men – they already know my face. But Astoria might be useful to bring along – she can pry things out of them I won't be able to.

* * *

_February 16, 2019_

Well, tonight was the speed dating session. Pantera wasn't with us tonight; he told us last week he wouldn't be there.

"I can't make it." I remember he'd puffed agitatedly on his cigarette. "It's my mother. She's sick and I have to visit her. She's in the US, you see."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I'd said.

"S'all right. She's a tough old cookie, she'll be fine. Listen," he suddenly said, "what are you going to do about the case while I'm gone?"

"I'll keep prying, I think. Never could resist sticking my nose in places it doesn't belong."

"Fine, just – be careful." Dare I say he actually looked concerned? "I don't need your deaths on my hands, all right? I already get enough goddamn shit from the rest of the Aurors. Those arseholes. It's as though they don't have anything better to do than bully the underdog." He scowled. "I bet they don't even know my name."

Well, it was nice to know he cared about my life for the sake of caring, at least… He smashed his cigarette into the ashtray and rifled around through one of his drawers, eventually pulling out a raggedy notebook with ink all over it. "These are my case files."

I eyed the thing dubiously. "How meticulous."

He ignored that and handed it to me. "Seriously, take them. Read them through and see if you can pick up anything I might have missed. Because knowing me, I've probably missed a whole damn lot."

"I'm sure you –"

"No, seriously. I know how bad I am at this job." He rubbed his forehead. "About seven years I've been here, and I think I've only solved about five crimes in that time.  _Five_. The others have all just gone cold or turned over to 'real' departments. I'm a joke."

Astoria and I shared a glance and didn't say anything. He was probably expecting us to reassure him that he wasn't a joke, but I don't make it a habit to lie.

"How long are you going for?" Astoria said instead, paving over the sudden awkwardness of the situation.

"I'll be back around mid-March," he replied, looking very tired. "If you need to get in contact with me, just owl me or something."

I'm not a pitiless man. Pantera looked like he was ready to cry. "Take a break, Pantera," I advised, and took his ridiculous case notes. I'm sure there's something worthwhile in there, but it would sort of help if he wrote like a human being instead of an animal writing with a quill clenched between its teeth. No wonder he's at a standstill – he can't read what he writes, the idiot.

But back to the night. There's not really much to report. A few interesting things, but again, I just don't feel like I'm any closer to finding answers than I have been.

"But not all of the victims had connections to SWWSDA," I said to Astoria before the session started. I pronounce it as  _swizda_ , for convenience's sake, and I sound ridiculous. "So maybe the killer isn't a regular here. We could be wasting time."

"Maybe. Or maybe someone here saw something."

"Or maybe the murderer isn't even here tonight."

"Well, all of the regulars Pantera identified are here. Gardener, Fallone, Pierce-Hawkins, and a couple of others. The only one he's definitely ruled out is Wilson because the man has weak bones and muscles – some sort of genetic disease. He wouldn't be able to kill anyone with his bare hands."

So the session started, Astoria started rotating at the tables, and I talked to a lot of uninteresting, unmemorable people. (Thank Merlin Pansy wasn't there.) Finally Astoria made it to my table.

"Anything?" I murmured.

Astoria glanced at some of the regulars. "Not yet. Although…"

"What?"

"Joseph Gardener." She glanced over at him, a couple of tables to my left. I hadn't spoken to him before really, just sort of glared at each other from across the room. Sour looking man, probably early-thirties. His name is circled and underlined in Pantera's book three times. "He's a regular, been coming here more than a year. I… didn't like the way he looked at me."

I squeezed her hand. "You're out of the typical age-range. You should be fine."

She raised an eyebrow. " _Should_  being the keyword, there," she replied, but she did squeeze my hand back.

None of the women there today were younger than thirty-five, so with luck, a body won't turn up in Knockturn Alley tomorrow morning.

* * *

_February 28, 2019_

I went with Astoria to interrogate Vitus 'Fallone' today. I found his address in Pantera's book and went there in the morning. Imagine my surprise when I bumped (figuratively) into Potter on our way to his front door.

"Potter?"

"Malfoy?" Potter spared a confused glance for Astoria. "What, uh, what are you doing here?"

"I'm here to talk to Fallone."

"Fallone?" Potter blinked. "You mean Vitus?"

I nodded.

"But his name's not Fallone. He's Fiore. Vitus Fiore, son of Titus Fiore – you gave me his name, remember? I narrowed down the suspects of Cavalier's murderers to him…" Potter trailed off and blinked in confusion again. "Why are you talking to him?"

My mind was racing at that stage, trying to keep up. "Fallone, he – he's a regular at the speed-dating thing," I said very uncertainly. "He's a suspect."

"What do you mean his name isn't Fallone?" Astoria asked.

"The Ministry keeps records of people who officially change their names. Vitus Fiore changed his name as soon as he got out of Hogwarts. Officially he's 'Fallone', but…"

Potter shrugged at me, but I don't know why I was so surprised. I mentioned in a November entry – the second time I went to the speed-dating, actually – that I recognised Fallone from somewhere. Because I sort of knew  _Titus_  Fiore, Death Eater, and Vitus Fallone looks an awful lot like his father. I knew it couldn't have been those Krum-like eyebrows.

While I communicated this to Astoria, Potter knocked on Fallone's door. He opened it a moment later.

"Hello?" he said, glance back and forth between the three of us on his doorstep.

"Mr Fiore?" Potter said. "I'm Harry Potter, Head Auror. I'd like to ask you some questions, if you don't mind."

"No, not at all," he lied. "Please, come in."

Astoria and I followed Potter in and hovered around in the study room Fallone led us to. Potter sat down with him first to talk, asking questions. I pretended not to listen but I caught everything anyway while I looked around. He had a lot of Agatha Christie books on his shelf. I don't know much about Muggle literature, but from the short amount of time I spent at the Muggle bookshop I do know that Agatha Christie was a crime writer.

"Do you like Muggle literature, Mr Fallone?" I asked in between Potter's questions.

"My wife was a collector," Fallone said. "I haven't read much of it myself."

"Hmm."

Whether or not this was a lie, I don't know. The spines of the books were all creased from being rigorously read, but that could have been new or old. Potter asked a few more questions then took his leave, saying that he'd be in touch with Fallone if anything else came up. Before he left (Fallone saw him to the door), Astoria picked up a photograph of Fallone's late wife. Brown hair, blue eyes, pretty thing: she looked very similar to Titania and a couple of the other girls.

When I sat down with Astoria to talk to him, he immediately said, very testily, "Can I expect another interrogation?"

"Why, are you busy?"

"I don't like being attacked in my own home, Malfoy," he said stiffly.

"It's just a couple of questions, Mr Fallone," Astoria said smoothly. "We won't be long."

She has a certain charm, Astoria. Livia did more than just inherit it, though; she maximises it to her fullest potential. Astoria's charm is subtle enough for most, and Fallone was susceptible. He relaxed, just a bit, and only for her.

"How did your wife die?" I asked. But, tactfully. I am not a man without tact.

Fallone winced and looked away. "She – she slipped in the shower. Broke her neck. It was an  _accident_  – I didn't find her for two hours. They said she died instantly and there was nothing I could have done."

Broken neck, slipping in the shower? I glanced at Fallone's hands. They're large enough and he looks strong enough to snap someone's neck. Strong enough to strangle, as well?

"How old was your wife when she died?"

"Twenty-six."

"And you are currently how old?"

"Thirty."

"How did you meet your wife?"

Fallone cast a desperate glance at Astoria. "Why are you asking me all these questions? What does Laura have to do with Cavalier's death?"

"I'm not talking about the Cavalier case," I said. "Auror Potter will handle your connection to that. You are a person of interest in the deaths of Felicity Foulton, Arianna Desiree, Honoria Heston, Madison Levy, and Titania Greengrass." Fallone looked awfully pale, like he was about to faint. "Do you recognise some of their names? You met three of them at speed-dating, the same nights they died."

He shook his head. "Auror Pantera already talked to me about them," he said. "I'm not a suspect. I didn't have anything to do with them. I swear."

"Mr Fallone, some of those women bore a striking resemblance to your late wife."

"Draco," Astoria murmured, just as Fallone stood up angrily.

"How dare you!"

"Sit down, Fallone."

"No, I won't! This is my house, so don't tell me what to do! Get out! Just get out, Malfoy! I know what you're implying and you're wrong. I'm not a murderer. My father was a bad man, all right? I changed my name to get away from it and I started a new life with Laura. She – her death was an accident. I didn't kill her!"

"It's all right, Mr Fallone," Astoria said.

He stared tearfully at her. "Please believe me," he whispered.

Astoria held his gaze. "We won't bother you further," she said, then she dragged me out of the house.

I don't know what she was playing at. She won't tell me, except that she doesn't think he did it. Fiore – Fallone – whatever. Occam's Razor, right? Simplest explanation is probably the right one. So… Fallone is killing young women who remind him of his late wife. Maybe. Or he still has FD ties and killed Cavalier. So do I turn him over to Potter to investigate or do I wait for Pantera to get back and make him investigate? I don't even know which deaths belong to which case anymore. What if the girls who didn't have SWWSDA ties belong to the Cavalier murder case, and Fallone didn't have to do with that?

I'm so confused. Too many dead people.

Joseph Gardener, the other suspect, doesn't seem to have any clear motive. I spoke to him the other afternoon and he wasn't there on the night Titania was killed. Fallone, on the other hand, was there for all of them according to Pantera's notes. So why isn't he listed as the number 1 suspect? Because there's no proof?

I feel like I'm going around in circles. Now I know how Pantera feels – a list of names, no proof of anything, no ties and no leads.

My head hurts. Time to pull out the red string and turn my study wall into a spider web, I think. And get the House Elves to bring me some coffee.

* * *

_March 1, 2019_

I hate coming down from a caffeine high. I have a headache worse than I did two days ago – probably because I haven't slept at all. I have lots of leftover Muggle arts and crafts supplies from Livia's schooling – things she didn't need – and as I promised I turned my study wall into a spider web of red string and glued pictures and post-it notes.

Frankly, I think it's a work of art.

Weasley came by to check on me an hour ago, apparently having been sent by his wife and sister to make sure their pet was still being well fed and looked after. "Malfoy, are you – whoa. Um." Weasley froze in my doorway and eyed my study. "Were you… deprived of arts and crafts as a kid by any chance?"

Well, yes, but I was also sleep deprived at that moment and running on four cups of coffee which probably was not very healthy. "Weasley!" I said, spinning around and pointing at his chest.

"That's my name, don't wear it out."

"What connects the son of a Death Eater with FD ties to five girls turning up dead in Knockturn Alley?"

"Well, they're…" Weasley looked at the Wall of Red String, trying to catch up. "They're… all in their late twenties? How many of them knew each other?"

"Felicity Foulton and Titania Greengrass knew each other. And I think they might have known Cavalier, who knew Michael Fitzsimons who  _might_ have known them and might either be involved with FD or the speed-dating murders."

"…Okay.  _How_  did they know each other?"

"Hogwarts," I said. And then something clicked. "Hogwarts!"

And then it unclicked.

"No," I sighed. " _Everyone_  knew each other at Hogwarts. It's too vague a connection. I need to look for a connection outside of school that links them." Then I glanced at Weasley and a thought occurred to me. "How did you get in here?"

Weasley rolled his eyes. " _Now_  he asks. Astoria let me in. You're not still sleeping with her, are you? Because –"

"No! No relationship advice! If you have something you want to say, write it down and put it in the Relationship Advice Box."

"The –  _what_?"

I pointed at a red cardboard box on my desk that I'd hastily glued together earlier. It had the words 'Relationship Advice Box' written on it. "The red box!"

"Is that  _glitter_ –?"

"That's for you if you want to give me relationship advice. Write it down, put it in the box and I'll read it later."

"…How much coffee have you had?"

"Why?" I demanded.

Weasley took a step back and held up his hands. "No reason."

At least I wasn't so hyperactive as to point out that I made the box red specifically to match his hair. I don't think I'd ever have lived that down.

What connects the deaths of five women from a speed-dating agency to the deaths of four men, one being an FD suspect and another being a close friend of his from school who was poisoned last year?

At the moment: Vitus Fallone, and Jessica Altar. And now, I think it's time to get in contact with Catherine Nightingale.

After I recover from the caffeine.

* * *

  
  
**Chapter 9: correspondence III**   
  


_March 2, 2019_

Dear Miss Nightingale,

I apologise if I seem forward in this letter. My name is Draco Malfoy. It is my understanding that you and Jessica Altar, whom I have already spoken to, were close friends of Titania Greengrass at school. Please accept my condolences for Titania's death. At present, I am attempting to find her killer and bring them to justice. The Auror in charge of her case, Ignatius Pantera, may or may not have contacted you previously, but he is currently out of the country.

I am writing to ask whether you would be willing to answer a few questions for me, regarding Titania. I understand a meeting would be somewhat difficult as you live in Germany, but if you are open to answering questions may I write to you again? Please reply as soon as is convenient for you.

Thank you for your time,

Draco Malfoy

* * *

_March 5, 2019_

Malfoy,

Well, I really hope you know what you've done to Teddy. 15 Galleons per hour!  _15_! To watch his own God-siblings. An insult. It must be that Black gene that you woke up. All these years it was happily dormant, and then you had to go an offer to  _pay_  him. If he turns into that money-hungry politician, I'll know exactly who to blame.

In other news, I'm putting the FD stuff aside. The Aurors and the Ministry are urging me to give the case up and call it all a false alarm. Fair enough, I guess. Giulia Gilbert herself told me that unless I pulled up something concrete in the next couple of days, it's over. A few Aurors think I should keep looking, but I'm not going to get backing from the Ministry anymore. Just when I was getting used to throwing my name around…

Hope you've had more luck on your case. Pantera's still in the States, right? When he gets back, tell him to do some real work because he doesn't get paid for nothing. He seems to listen to you.

H. Potter

* * *

_March 7, 2019_

Potter,

My evil plan is coming into fruition, it seems. I foresee Teddy Lupin will go far in life now that he understands the value of money, whether or not it was earned. Politician, you think? Hmm. I suppose if you disown him as your Godson, I'd be more than happy to take him off your hands and mentor him. It always pays to have a couple of politicians on your side, after all.

I'm not having much luck on my case either. I have a red web of string on my wall, but that's about it. When Pantera gets back I might get him to have a look at it and see if he can find a pattern that I'm missing. Ha! He listens to me? He doesn't listen to me, he uses me as a free psychiatrist. All he does is whine, half the time…

D. Malfoy

* * *

_March 10, 2019_

Malfoy,

I knew it, you evil scumbag, and now I have written proof of your insidious plotting. When I show Teddy the evidence, he will horrified by your manipulations.

(Or he could laugh and say that you have the right idea and maybe he'll take you up on your offer, which he most certainly did not do.)

Yeah, I heard about the red web of string on your wall from Ron. I  _also_  heard about the "Relationship Advice Box". Glitter, Malfoy? Really?

H. Potter

* * *

_March 14, 2019_

Miss Livia Malfoy  
Ravenswood College, Old Church Road  
Pembury, Tunbridge Wells  
Kent TN2 4AX, England

Dear Livia,

Once again, things are very quiet in the house without you and Scorpius (and your Potter/Weasley friends) to make things exciting. I hope you're enjoying school still. How are your teachers and classes? Still going well?

You'll be proud to know that I have improved my cooking skills. Yesterday I successfully made spaghetti bolognese. I destroyed a cooking pot in the process, but that's beside the point.

As usual, I have enclosed a copy of the most recent  _Daily Prophet_. Was there anything else you wanted me to send you?

I'll pick you up at the end of the month. I was thinking… how would you like to live in Kent? I have been considering purchasing a house in Muggle Kent and link the fireplace up with the Manor. Just thinking about it, of course; nothing set in stone. What do you think?

Much love,

Your father

* * *

_March 25, 2019_

Mr Draco Malfoy  
Malfoy Manor  
Salisbury  
Wiltshire SP5 5QG, UK

Dear Daddy,

Classes are going well! I still love them and my teachers are very good. Mr Howard teaches English and he's very funny.

Only one cooking pot this time? Maybe you are getting better. Can you cook for me when I come home? I think I would like to try some of your spaghetti bolognese.

Thank you for the  _Daily Prophet_! I'm also sending you the Muggle newspaper,  _The Daily Telegraph_ , in case you wanted to read it. It has some interesting articles in it and I understand it a bit better now because I know more about the Muggle world.

Oh, please! Please, Daddy, I would  _love_  to live here! You mean we might get a Muggle house? With a television and fridge and Internet? Scorpius would love that as well, I know he would! Thank you, Daddy, thank you thank you thank you!

Much love from Livia

PS: Miss Halcombe says she's still expecting you to arrive in a horse-drawn carriage. What does she mean?

* * *

_March 27, 2019_

Hugo Weasley  
Weasley House, St. Andrew's Road  
Avon, Portbury  
Somerset BS24 9AY, UK

Dear Hugo,

Guess what? Daddy's buying a house in Kent! A Muggle house! An actual Muggle house with a television and computers and Internet and all those other things we have at Ravenswood. I mean, he hasn't bought it  _yet_  because he is still looking around for a nice one, but when he does he says that we'll be able to link the Floo up to the Manor. I will not be able to travel on my own but when we get a house in Kent you can come and visit! My school term is over and Daddy will pick me up tomorrow and we can look around some more houses with Scorpius.

I hope you're well! What have you been doing lately? I have been busy with school work. I love history. Muggle history is so interesting! They had much, much larger wars than the Wizarding world had.

Write soon!

Love from Livia

* * *

_March 30, 2019_

Livia Malfoy  
Ravenswood College, Old Church Road  
Pembury, Tunbridge Wells  
Kent TN2 4AX, England

Dear Livia,

That's wicked awesome! Does this mean you'll be able to send emails and stuff? And get a mobile phone? Mum has a mobile phone but she doesn't use it much. A Muggle house is brilliant! I told Dad and he started laughing for some reason.

I'm so  _bored_  at home. I only have Lily to play with and she doesn't even want to play that much, she just likes talking about time travel. And all of my other cousins are older than me and play boring games like cards and chess, and they're always at Hogwarts anyway. I hate being one of the youngest. You're more fun than all of my cousins, anyway. I really want to go to Hogwarts soon so I can tell you stories about it. (Dad and Mum say I'm not allowed to go to a Muggle school, but I'm still going to ask.)

Love,

Hugo

* * *

_April 2, 2019_

Draco,

I think Pantera's given up on the cases, the bastard. I have not, and don't you dare think about giving up either. I'm going to go through Titania's old diaries and letters to see if I can find anything. Keep working on any possible connections and let me know if Catherine Nightingale tells you anything important.

I spoke to Vitus Fallone again yesterday but I don't think he has anything to do with Titania's death.

Please say hello to Scorpius for me, and pass on my regards to Livia.

Astoria

* * *

_April 3, 2019_

Astoria,

You shouldn't have gone to visit Fallone on your own. I know you don't think he has anything to do with it, but there's no proof that he doesn't. So be careful. What did you even go to visit him for, anyway?

Catherine Nightingale hasn't replied to me yet, so I'm waiting on that. Let me know if you find anything in Titania's old letters.

Scorpius gives his love.

Draco

* * *

_April 8, 2019_

Dear Scorpius,

I hope you're enjoying your stay at the Lovegood-Scamander household, although what you're doing there I really have no idea. Was this your idea, Albus's idea, or Lorcan/Lysander Scamander's idea? Either way, please refrain from pulling off another disappearing act like that. I was very worried until Mrs Scamander (or does she still go by Lovegood?) sent me a Patronus telling me where you went to. Is this some sort of burst of rebellion? The only reason I'm not charing over right now to drag you home by your ear is because you've behaved yourself all year up until yesterday.

Keep safe, don't scare me again, and thank Mr and Mrs Scamander for letting you stay.

Love,

Your father

* * *

_April 10, 2019_

Dear Dad,

Sorry. Lysander talked about it during the term then he and Albus sent me a letter and a Portkey, and I didn't  _mean_  to stay! I was just going to go over for a moment and say 'hi' then go back to the Manor but then Luna told me she'd let you know I was here and Lysander asked me and Albus to play a match of Quidditch and I sort of lost track of time. So, yeah. Sorry for scaring you.

Love,

Scorpius

PS: I'll be home tomorrow.

PPS: Er. Sorry again. For scaring you. I won't do it again soon.

* * *

_April 11, 2019_

Dear Mr Malfoy,

I'm sorry for not replying sooner; I've been out of town and all of my mail was redirected to my empty house. I only just returned yesterday. I hope this letter doesn't come too late for your investigations. It's good to see that Titania's death is being investigated, nonetheless; she deserves to have justice done. Ignatius Pantera has not contacted me.

You can ask whatever you like. I'll tell you what I know, but there's no guarantee I'll tell you anything useful.

Regards,

Catherine Nightingale

* * *

_April 14, 2019_

Dear Miss Nightingale,

Thank you for the reply. No, it's not too late; I haven't made any progress on the case anyway. Auror Pantera has returned but we're both at a standstill. Hopefully anything you might give me can help.

What I'd first like to ask is: did Titania have any enemies that you knew of? Either during or after her school years? And did she ever say anything to you about speed-dating, or maybe mention someone she met there?

I'm also attaching a list of names to this letter. The list is of people who have died in the last year whose deaths may be related to Titania's. Could you please look through them and see if you knew any of them, and if you did then, then can you see any link between the names?

Thank you,

Draco Malfoy

* * *

_April 17, 2019_

Dear Mr Malfoy,

Well, I don't know if any of this will be useful to you, but this is all I can tell you. Titania mentioned she was going to a speed-dating session a few months before she died, but she never mentioned anyone she met there. As far as I know, she didn't have any enemies at school. After or outside of school, I wouldn't be able to tell you as I moved to Germany several years ago and I was no longer part of her social day-to-day group.

As for your other question and the list of names, I don't really know anyone else. Some of the names look familiar; according to their ages, I would have gone to Hogwarts with some of them. Fitzsimons and Cavalier vaguely ring a bell (I remember them from school – they were something of bullies but I rarely crossed paths with them), but the only other person I know anything about is Madeline Levy. I'm a family friend of her cousin, and the last I heard from her was that Madeline was convinced her boyfriend was cheating on her and was mentioned she was planning to go to a private investigator. Other than their ages, I can't see any link. That's all I can tell you, I'm sorry.

If you have more questions you can owl again, but there's no guarantee I'll be able to answer anything. Good luck with the case, Mr Malfoy. I hope you work it out soon.

Sincerely,

Catherine Nightingale

* * *

_April 17, 2019_

Draco,

I've been going through all of Titania's old letters to Daphne and me for the last two weeks. I should have remembered before but back then Titania was sending us a letter every couple of weeks so I could never remember anything specific. One in particular she sent to us when we were on vacation back in 2006 – remember when I was pregnant with Scorpius and I went to Australia with Daphne? – and Daphne kept it all these years. You really need to read it, Draco – I've made a copy of the original letter and I'm attaching it to this.

Draco, I know you have a tendency for it, but don't do anything stupid!

Astoria

* * *

_February 20, 2006_

_Dear Daphne and Astoria,_

_Sorry it's been so long since I last wrote to you both! I'm also sorry for writing one letter to the both of you, but you did say that you were on holidays together so I thought it might be easier. How's Australia? Is it warm? I hope you're both having a wonderful time. Next time I might just tag along! After school, of course… mother and father want me to focus on NEWTs for next year before they let me travel anywhere._

_I was about to write that nothing new was happening at Hogwarts (except that Professor Longbottom is gorgeous), but I do have news this week! Something so embarrassing happened. Do you remember that boy I told you about last year, the one who always gets picked on? He asked me out on Valentine's Day – in the middle of the corridor! Everyone heard and it's already all over the school. I felt so_  bad  _for him. Everyone calls him Iggy 'Pant-less' (that awful Harvey Kissinger in Gryffindor always hexes his pants off when the teachers aren't looking). But I couldn't say yes! He's younger than me, for one, and – oh, this is going to sound awful, but he has terrible skin and he's not very good-looking and he's a bit of a dork. I don't think I've even spoken to him all that much. It's bad enough those brutes Cavalier and Fitzsimons pick on Iggy, but he's just made things so much worse for himself. What was he expecting? For me to say yes? Daphne, Astoria – I feel so mean. Should I have said yes? I wouldn't have meant it – I might have said 'yes' because I felt sorry for him, which would have been cruel anyway. It's too late now, I suppose – Honoria Heston wrote all about it and put it up on the notice board already. She kept my name out of it, but I feel terrible for poor Iggy._

 _Anyway. That was the excitement for the week. It'll probably be all over by tomorrow – gossip doesn't last long at Hogwarts, but I'm sure you both know that already! I've been studying hard but Ancient Runes is driving me_ insane _. I'm considering dropping the subject – I know I'm just going to fail it and I don't really want to keep it for my NEWTS next year. What do you two think? I know you did it for NEWTS, Astoria – is it worth it?_

_Enjoy the rest of your holiday! You'll have to tell me all about the Great Barrier Reef – is it as beautiful as people say? Please pass on my love to your children, Daphne! And Astoria, congratulations! Do you think it'll be a boy or a girl? Give my regards to Draco when your holiday is over!_

_Much love,_

_Titania_

* * *

_April 17, 2019_

Potter –

I don't have time to explain properly, but here's the rundown: Pantera's the serial killer. He's responsible for Cavalier too, and at least three other men, I'm sure of it. Everything you need is in my journal that I'm sending with this letter. Get to Pantera's private office as soon as you can.

D. Malfoy

* * *

  
  
**Chapter 10: a recount of events by draco malfoy [journal unavailable]**

_April 27, 2019_

I woke up yesterday to find myself in a bed in St Mungo's hospital.

Clearly I'd missed something, because Potter was the first person I saw. I groaned.

"First of all," Potter announced, sitting down on the bed next to me. He's not the skinny twerp he used to be – my bed sank with his weight. "You're a stupid idiot and you nearly died." I was still a bit too out of it to do anything other than groan again. "Secondly –" he brandished my journal at me. "– a diary, Malfoy? Really?"

"S'not a diary," I slurred. "S'a journal."

Potter snorted, but it was very half-hearted. "I'm going to have to hang onto this for a while, as evidence. Is that okay?"

"S'fine," I said, but it actually isn't because I have private stuff in that journal and I'll probably end up being the laughing stock of the Auror departments. That's the reason I'm writing his on pieces of parchment instead of in my journal as I usually would. Also I'm obsessive and I need to write everything down – I need clear my thoughts and get everything in order before Potter has me write an official statement out.

Back to the beginning:

When I received Astoria's letter and Titania's old letter, moments after getting Catherine Nightingale's letter, everything fell into place.

Hogwarts. The ages of the victims. Diagon Alley as the major common denominator, not the speed-dating.

I didn't stop to think. Usually I pride myself on having  _common sense_  and  _survival skills_ , like a proper Slytherin should, right?

Yeah, no. Not so much. Clearly I have been spending far too much time around those Gryffindors Potter and Weasley. Stupidity must be contagious. It's the only explanation. I shot out of the house and Floo'd to Diagon Alley, heading straight to Pantera's private practice. "I ruin marriages for a living," he'd said before. That was also one of the links. His office, in easy walking distance from Knocturn Alley and SWWSDA meetings.

At least I had enough common sense left to send my journal and the letters and a hastily slapped-together flow chart to Potter. If you're going off to confront a murderer, you don't go in being the only one who knows the full story. That's the epitome of stupidity. Granted, I really wasn't that far off.

It was late when I got to Diagon Alley. No-one was around. The street lamps gave the place this eery glow; very  _noir_. On my way to Pantera's office, I passed a young woman; the only one I could see on the street. She was leaning against a lamp post, and at first I thought she was Ginny, but she was too young and her features weren't right. She was writing in a diary, and she nodded at me politely as I passed.

Pantera wasn't in his office. I was hit by unexpected relief; I didn't actually want to confront him. I needed to look through his files and find something, anything, that would tie him back to all of the murders completely. He didn't seal the office; a simple _Alohamora_  got me inside. I suspected he might have warded the place, and I limited myself to ten minutes searching for something that would tie him to Cavalier or Madison Levy.

I made it to five minutes.

"You won't find their files."

I turned around slowly, away from the filing cabinet.

Pantera shut the door behind him, watching me with cold eyes. Not tired eyes, not defeated.  _Cold_. And I knew, then, that I was absolutely right.

Still, I wet my lips, finding myself nervous. "You don't know what I'm looking for."

Pantera glared at the ground in this sort of chilling vague manner. I used to think he was handsome, actually, if a bit generic. But that was all in his expression, his features, his attitude. That was all stripped away, in that moment. All that was left was Ignatius Pantera.

No, not Ignatius Pantera. Iggy 'Pant-less', all grown up and twisted.

"The files. I burned them. You'll never find a connection to me."

"You know I know."

"It's the only reason you'd break into my office."

Pantera was a psychopath and an actor. He wasn't stupid, however much he pretended to be. He walked towards me slowly and I found myself walking back, trying to keep an even distance.  _Talk_ , I remember thinking to myself.  _Talk to him and keep him occupied. Potter will know you're here and he'll come soon. Keep his attention._

So I talked. I get annoyed when the perpetrators do their obligatory victory exposition speech. It's as though they can't help but gloat. I didn't talk to gloat; I was talking to keep him entertained. "The speed-dating agency was never the link," I found myself saying. "It was a link, sure – because it was what you had in common with some of the victims. You were at it the night Titania died. And then you thought you could pin it on me. What was it you said?  _Potter has a bad habit of assuming the best of everyone._ You weren't just putting me under suspicion – you were _gloating._ "

"You think you're clever, don't you, Draco."

"No, I don't think so. I know so."

He scoffed at me, and I kept talking.

"The link was Hogwarts. Pretty much every witch or wizard you see when there, right? Someone always knows someone. And you knew all of them. Titania was in the year above you – everyone loved her, you said. Including you. You asked her out and she turned you down at school. Poor, bullied Iggy Pant-less."

Pantera flinched, and I knew I struck the right chord. It  _was_  about that. I realise belatedly that taunting him probably wasn't the smartest thing I could do at the time.

"She turned you down and you were picked on even more. Honoria Heston wrote about it and pinned on a notice board. Cavalier and Fitzsimons gave you hell. Harvey Kissinger was in your year and he always hexed your pants off. What about the other girls? Felicity and Madison and Arianna? Did you like them as well – and they turned you down, just like Titania?"

"They laughed at me at school."

"You had bad skin at school. You weren't very handsome, were you." I walked around him, and he walked as well, keeping an even distance between us. "You're not like that now. You're good-looking. And none of them recognised you, did they?"

Pantera twitched. "Titania," he whispered. "She didn't even recognise my name."

"It made you angry."

He didn't answer, and I knew I was right again. It must have made him furious – to sit in front of the gorgeous woman who once humiliated him at school, and she didn't even recognise her name. But the thing was, Titania committed no crime at all. So, she turned him down at school and he was picked on because of it – her death was completely unjustified. Pantera killed her out of spite. Out of bitterness. For no real reason at all.

He wasn't just vengeful. He was a psychopath.

I didn't have any sympathy for him. "Madison came to this office so that you could follow her boyfriend," I said slowly, trying to control my own anger. "What about the others?"

He narrowed his eyes at me, as if saying,  _You slow idiot_. "I'm a non-magical crimes Auror. There's always something – a break-in, an unfaithful spouse, stolen goods. You'd be surprised how many of my old classmates came to me, expecting me to help them when I spent  _years_  being tortured by them!"

"You ruin marriages for a living," I said. "That was the link to Arianna and Madison. Madison Levy came to your private practice, didn't she? Wanting you to follow the boyfriend she thought was unfaithful."

Pantera shook.

"I think I've figured out everyone except Jackson Mills. He was in your year at school. Mugged in May last year."

At this, Pantera did look a bit surprised. "Jackson Mills? Heh. I didn't have anything to do with him."

Okay, well, fine. We can't all be perfect. I stopped talking about Mills. "Every time you said there was a 'dead end' or 'no connection', you were lying so that we couldn't get any closer. Because no-one would suspect an Auror." I remember gripping my wand tightly there, because Pantera made a short, sharp move – almost like a jerk reflex. "Cavalier. You were at the Muggleborn Fund Christmas Charity Ball as well. Jonathan Cavalier used to bully you at school. Potter said they used Veritaserum on the guests and found nothing – because the murderer wasn't a guest, was it, Pantera? You said so yourself – Potter sees the best in people. You might have been the underdog of the Aurors, but you were still an Auror. The last person to fall under suspicion, but the person with the best resources and skills to hide a weapon and not leave a trace, ensuring that the non-magical murder would place it  _straight_  into your jurisdiction where it would turn cold. And no-one else would care because who cares about cases in the Non-magical Crimes department?"

I glanced around the room.

"Is it here? The weapon?"

"You'll never find it."

"No, I'm sure I will. You're sentimental, Ignatius. You care about these things. You're obsessive. If you weren't, you wouldn't have killed all those people for school day revenge." I glanced around the office again. Messy, but… not a  _natural_  mess. I know natural mess – I've been raising two kids on my own for the past couple of years, and the state their bedrooms get into is atrocious. But that mess – it was calculated. Piles of paper intentionally stacked, pizza boxes all over the place. He was playing to the stereotype: down-on-his-luck, underdog-Auror, but casual and open. _You can trust me – I'm messy, just like you!_

But Pantera wasn't messy by nature. He was obsessive and therefore ordered. How else could he have kept the evidence hidden so well, all these years? He's into Muggle crimes; he knows how to cover up non-magical crimes. And we're wizards; our instinct is to think of magic. He used that against the Aurors. He was obsessive and ordered – but he was also passionate, which meant he'd made mistakes. He'd put the weapon somewhere in the office, right under his gloating eye.

"You almost screwed up with Cavalier," I said. It was more just to keep the talk going – Pantera was looking unstable, red-faced and shaking silently. I knew what he was capable of; he was a strong man, and his hands – like Fallone's – were large and powerful, capable of strangling someone to death, or capable of stabbing them. If I kept talking, maybe I could keep him occupied until Potter arrived. "When you saw him at the function, you couldn't resist, could you? Only thing was, you killed someone with FD links – which put it straight into Potter's jurisdiction. There was a chance he'd trace it back to you – and then how many? So you stopped killing for a while."

"Not one since that night. Do you know how  _agonising_  it's been, watching my old school mates pass me by and not recognising me? How easy it would be to lure them down Knockturn Alley and strangle them?"

"Easy for you, maybe. Your office isn't too far from it. You could pull it off."

"I  _did_  pull it off."

"No, you didn't. I caught up to you. It took a while, but I did. Your motive was also your mistake – everyone always knows someone. It took a while to piece it together, but once I had the right letters in my hand with the right memories and the right suspicions…"

"You're a meddling idiot, Malfoy."

"I told you," I said, "I can't resist sticking my nose in places it doesn't belong." I paced again, keeping an eye on him. He wouldn't move and didn't look at me, so I carefully continued. "I thought Hogwarts was the connection. The age similarities, how many of them knew each other from school. The only reason I didn't click to it sooner was because of you:  _everyone_  goes to Hogwarts. Motive, right there – you're the right age. You knew everyone single of them, and no-one put it together because no-one remembers the name of the person they bullied at school."

"They  _forgot_  me," Pantera muttered. It was more like he was talking to himself. "Years they tortured me, and they didn't even remember my face. Didn't even remember my  _name_."

"Pantera." He looked at me. "What I don't understand is  _why_. Look at you! You're not that dorky kid from school that everyone picked on anymore. You could have been more successful than any of them – you could have revolutionised the Non-magical crimes department and shown them all up! Wouldn't that have been a better revenge?"

" _Better_?" Pantera spat. "How could it be  _better_  when they didn't even recognise me or know my name? There's no victory in that." His hands tightened on the edges of his desk, knuckles turning white. "She did recognise me eventually, you know," he said. "Titania. When I had my hands around her neck, squeezing the life out of her, I could see it in her eyes. She knew  _exactly_  who I was." He threw his head back and laughed. "It was amazing."

I don't know why I didn't throw a spell at him when his back was turned, or attack him. I wanted to keep him talking because I wanted to hear it as much as he wanted to gloat. "You've killed people, Ignatius."

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Then it's a good thing I have you here to pin the blame on. Underdog Ignatius Pantera, Auror for non-magical crimes, finally traced the murders back to ex-Death Eater and scorned ex-husband Draco Malfoy!" Pantera grinned nastily. "Just when I called him in to tell him I knew everything and he'd better confess, he attacked – and I killed him in self-defence –"

"Nice try, but no. I made a copy of all the relevant letters and sent my journal with all of my findings to Potter. People know it's you, Pantera."

He scowled. A real, ugly scowl – one that revealed the depth of his hatred. There was something sick and twisted in it. "You little shithead."

"Only Ronald Weasley gets to call me that."

"Then he can be the one to call you that at your funeral!"

He attacked.

If he'd thrown a curse at me, I know I could have blocked it. I know I would have retaliated in kind, because that was the attack I was expecting. I'm a wizard, and I still think like a wizard.

But he lunged himself at me, holding a Muggle handgun that he'd  _pulled out from Merlin knows where_ , and I panicked and frankly _forgot_  I could do magic. I leapt out of the way but not fast enough – he ploughed into my legs and we crashed to the ground. My wand, of course, flew out of my hand and landed in one of his artistic piles of rubbish.

I have fought in hand-to-hand combat before, and I can hold my own. But when I took down Kingson in the Hogwarts dungeons last year, it was because I was fuelled by an overwhelming urge to protect my son. I don't even remember most of it: just struck by the need to save Scorpius. As I tackled Pantera, blocking blows and getting smashed against desks and walls and windows, all I could think of was,  _I need to stop eating so much ice cream I'm so unfit_  and  _holy shit he's going to kill me._

Because he was. I know he was. He smashed the gun across my face when he finally caught me in a pin. I remember pain blinding me, paralysing. He didn't shoot me – that was what I was really panicking about. But he just held it against my head, looking crazed and furious.

"You meddling little  _fuck_  –"

And then he wrapped his left hand around my throat, dropped the gun to one side, added his right hand to my neck, and started to squeeze.

I've never been strangled before. It's… hard to describe. At first, I didn't even know what was happening. And when it clicked – _he's killing me I can't breathe_  – I panicked again, and started to writhe in his holding, kicking up at him and squirming. The pressure around my neck went tighter, I gave up on trying to claw at his face and tried to pry his hands off instead. What felt like hours were actually seconds.

When you can't breathe, your instinct is to get away from whatever is stopping you from breathing. It's a bit hard to get away from something that was pinning you down and had hands like rocks.

This is how Titania died, I thought. Struggling for air, panicking, terrified, hoping that someone would save her at the last minute.

I stopped struggling at some stage. I didn't have the strength for it anymore. I generally consider myself to be a strong man, but Pantera was stronger. I thought about Scorpius and Livia in those moments before I was due to black out. I wondered if they'd ever know how their dad died, where they'd go, who would be there for them.

I shouldn't have gone to Pantera's office. I'm not an Auror. I have two children to look after – I should never have put myself in that situation. But I did, because I'm a stupid idiot. I should have listened to Astoria –  _don't do anything stupid!_  I didn't even _think_. I must be having a midlife crisis – Draco Malfoy, pretending to be a hero.

No-one was there to save Titania at the last minute.

Someone was there to save me.

A woman burst into the office. My vision was blurring with black splotches at that stage and my only coherent thought was,  _That's the woman I passed on the street._  The one I mistook for Ginny Potter.

I don't even know her name. She burst in and raised her wand to attack Pantera, but hesitated – startled by the scene. And Pantera was too quick. He let go of my neck with his right hand, grabbed the gun, and shot her in the chest three times before she could even complete her  _Expelliarmus_. I didn't even hear it; I just remember the vividness of the blood spraying from her body three times and she fell, face caught in this sort of startled innocence.

I don't remember her hitting the ground. I do remember becoming aware of Pantera's loosened grip on my throat and being able to breathe again, and hearing myself think  _move or he'll actually kill you this time_. In what must have been desperation, I kicked up at him. I took him by surprise – he yelped when my foot landed in his gut. Not that it accomplished anything – it didn't even wind him. I was still lying on the floor, gasping for air and  _still not breathing_ , and he stood up and levelled the gun at my head.

This time, two people ran into the office.

" _Accio_  gun!"

Astoria's voice.

 _Get out of here he'll kill you_ , I thought, but at that stage my body forgot how to breathe and I couldn't do anything more than gurgle pathetically. The gun was ripped from Pantera's hand and flew straight into Astoria's. She held it shakily, like she didn't know what to do with it, but her finger slipped naturally around the trigger and she aimed it at Pantera's head.

"This is for Titania, you  _bastard_ ," Astoria spat. Pantera lunged –

And she fired. Shot him straight between the eyes.

His head snapped back sharply.

I blacked out. And then Fallone ( _Fallone!_ ) was kneeling over me, checking my pulse and asking me if I could breathe. I couldn't. I choked. Astoria telling me to stay with them, help was coming.

Potter's voice in the distance, and from the periphery of my gaze I could see him kneeling beside the woman who'd tried to save me.

I blacked out again, and then I woke up yesterday in St Mungo's with Potter in my room.

"You've been out for nine days," he told me after tucking my journal back into an evidence bag. (Shit.) "Keep resting. You'll feel better soon. We got you here just in time, you know, you lucky bastard. If Fallone hadn't given you mouth-to-mouth…"

Ew.

Before Potter left, I stopped him. "Wait," I croaked. "The woman. Girl. Who… who was she?"

Potter shrugged, but he was trying and failing to hide a distressed expression. "A passing woman who heard the fight going on and came up to help you. That's all."

"Her… name?"

"I don't know."

I started to cry a bit there. In my defence, it had been a very traumatic week and the anaesthesia wasn't helping. I wonder if that girl had a family, if they even knew she was dead because of me. Potter put his hand on my shoulder.

"Don't feel guilty, Malfoy. It… happens, you know. Innocents getting caught in the crossfire. It… it wasn't your fault. It wasn't."

But he looked like he was about to cry as well, then he left. That was a few hours ago. I'm feeling better, sort of.

_Later_

Not really.

_Later again_

Maybe a bit better now. Weasley came by to visit today.

"You," he announced, "are a crazy moron."

"Thanks." I still sound like I swallowed a cup full of shattered glass. Clearly Weasley thought so too, because he winced when I spoke.

"You know what you need?"

"What?" I rasped.

"Ice cream," Weasley said decisively. He left as swiftly as he arrived, and then came back twenty minutes later with a bowl of ice cream that he shoved at me. "Here."

"…Thank you."

I also feel really dorky writing on loose sheets of parchment and needing to stick them together with a small Sticking Charm. So I'm going to stop writing now.

_Later again_

Maybe I should just get a new journal. I don't know how long Potter is going to keep mine. He's probably not even using it as evidence. He's probably showing it to Ginny and Granger and Weasley and cackling about everything I've written.

Twerp.

* * *

_April 28, 2019_

Astoria brought the children to St Mungo's earlier today.

I'd asked to see them before, when I woke up, but the Healers advised me against it until I was a bit stronger. I'm only half-glad I listened; I really did need strength to see them. Astoria hovered awkwardly in the doorway, letting Scorpius charge past her and Livia slip close towards me. Scorpius – my poor son. I knew before what I almost did to him and his sister, but seeing him, seeing his face tense and terrified and full of anger, was worse than being strangled by Pantera.

"All those lectures you gave me about not getting into trouble and staying safe! You hypocrite! I hate you!" Scorpius yelled, then burst into tears and launched himself into my arms. "D-don't do that again – don't you  _dare_  –"

"I'm sorry," I murmured into his hair. "I'm so sorry."

"I hate you," he sobbed. "Please don't ever do that again."

Livia crawled up beside us. She didn't say anything, but she hugged me tightly and the three of us stayed like that for I don't know how long. Astoria must have left during that, because when I looked over at the doorway she was gone. Eventually Scorpius pulled back, wiped his eyes, and crossed his arms.

"I mean," he said haltingly, "it was kind of cool that you were in the newspapers and everything and that you're a hero and stuff. Except for you nearly dying. That wasn't cool."

* * *

_April 30, 2019_

Astoria came to see me today, to say goodbye. Not for good, of course. I'm sure I'll see her around. As it transpires, she's eloping.

With Vitus Fallone.

"Do you have an eyebrow fetish or something?" was all I could manage to say.

She glared at me, but it was very half-hearted. I don't know how long it's been going on for and I'm not sure I really want to know. But I guess if she's happy, then… okay. Whatever.

"Thank you," I said before she left, "for bringing Livia here."

She would have had to go all the way to Kent and waltz into a Muggle school and come face-to-face with the daughter she rejected to bring her here. I think I've underestimated Astoria.

Astoria just nodded and looked away. She looked very sad and alone for a moment. "You're a wonderful father, Draco. Did I ever tell you that?" she said softly, and then she left.

* * *

_May 3, 2019_

Note to self – talk to children about this  _extensively_  before making a final decision:

Potter and Weasley again came to visit today, this time to take my complete statement. Afterwards, Potter casually said, "We find ourselves short on a Non-magical crimes Auror." He raised his eyebrows at me. "What do you say?"

It took me a couple of minutes to realise what he was asking. "Wha– me?"

"Yes," Weasley said. "You. Draco Malfoy. In the bed with a bowl of ice cream and a makeshift diary. You."

"I. What."

Weasley rolled his eyes. "I  _told_  you to wait until they took him off the drugs," he said to Potter.

"But – why?" I spluttered.

Potter ran a hand through his perpetually messy hair. "Well," he said, "you were pretty good back there."

"I almost got myself  _killed_  back there. And don't I need to sit through tests to be even be  _considered_  –?"

"Nah," Weasley said. "S'one of the perks of being friends with the Head Auror."

"Friends," I murmured. "Is that what we are?"

Potter blinked and shared a look with Weasley. "Well," Potter said haltingly, "not if you don't – I mean." He looked flustered. "We can just be, I don't know. Semi-non-antagonistic-parents-of-children-who-are-friends –"

When I get out of this bed I am going to hand it to him  _so hard._

"No, it's… it's good," I said, and Potter and Weasley grinned.

_Later_

I did say I needed to get another job, after all.

 

* * *

  
**Chapter 11: postscript**   
  


_June 21, 2019_

Potter never did end up giving me back my journal, but Granger gave me this one for my birthday instead. (She also gave me a book on Muggle aircraft, which I have not at all looked at yet or made notes on. At all.)

So this is the first entry in my journal since getting it. Up until now I haven't been writing anything down, but I'll record the last couple of months eventually. For now…

I picked up Scorpius from Platform 9 ¾ yesterday. The usual Platform shenanigans occurred – last minute goodbyes, ritualistic hugging of Rose Weasley and Albus Potter. Thank Merlin my children stayed out of trouble this year: I think I got into enough trouble on my own to make up for all of us. As we left (Livia wasn't with us – I picked her up from school today), Scorpius said, very cheekily, "So, do I have to call you Auror Malfoy now?"

Because I'm an Auror – the shiny new Non-magical crimes Auror. I honestly have  _no clue what I'm doing._

Weasley was a bucket of reassurance: "Hey, think of it this way – you can't  _possibly_  be worse than Pantera."

I'm very motivated.

That was yesterday. Today, I took Scorpius with me to Pembury to pick up Livia. She was ecstatic that her big cool brother came; he was mostly trying to pretend he didn't find it all that interesting and pretending he didn't like the attention of Livia's gaggle of friends. I left them for a moment to their own devices when Miss Halcombe and I saw each other at the same moment. She excused herself from a couple with their own young daughter and approached me.

"Mr Malfoy," she said. Her arms were crossed.

"Miss Halcombe."

"I never took you for the danger-seeking sort," Miss Halcombe said. "I hope you know what a shock you gave me, when Ms Greengrass arrived at the school to retrieve Livia."

"Er. What exactly did Astoria say?"

Miss Halcome raised her eyebrows. "Something about you being strangled by a serial killer, nearly dying, being in a coma and being placed on life-support."

"Oh. Well. Astoria was never very tactful." I blinked, and for the first time I noticed how Miss Halcombe was looking at me: faintly relieved, hiding her true fear. I felt both simultaneously happy that she cared enough about me to worry, and guilty that I'd made her feel that way anyway.

"Ms Greengrass is very beautiful," Miss Halcombe said, and she glanced away. "Are you and she together again, or –?"

"No!" I was entirely too quick to say. I cleared my throat and tried for a more even, casual tone. "No. Not at all. She's actually just eloped with someone else. I hope she didn't give you the impression – I mean, we've been working together closely for a bit, but – that's it." I shoved my hands into my pockets. "I apologise for any undue stress I caused you –"

"You're apologising for nearly dying?" she exclaimed.

"Um. Yes?" I rubbed the back of my neck. "It's new a hobby of mine. I got bored of Luddites Anonymous."

"So I hear from Livia. Although if you'll forgive me, Luddites Anonymous sounds like a considerably  _safer_  hobby." She allowed herself a smile. "You're a… detective now?"

"Something like that."

She assessed me silently, trying to figure me out. The entire year I've been infuriatingly vague with her and she knows it. She's not unintelligent – very sharp, actually. She knew there was something very decidedly not  _normal_  about me, the moment we met. In that moment, I was struck by the desire to escape or do something on impulse.

I compromised.

"I should, uh –" I said, glancing around at my children who were waiting by the Ministry car.

"Yes, it's –"

"– go now –"

"– have to get back to work –"

"– Would you like to have lunch with me tomorrow?"

"I –" She stopped and blinked, and I'm sure we both looked like we couldn't believe I'd just blurted that out. "Mr Malfoy, don't you live in Wiltshire?"

"Well, yes, but I'm going to buy a property here in Kent." She opened her mouth again to speak, but I quickly said, "I mean, you don't have to come to lunch with me. I'm sure you're busy –"

"Mr Malfoy –"

"– and before you say yes or no, you need to know something about me," I said. Blurted, actually. All of this was one big embarrassing  _blurt_. "When I was a teenager my parents were involved in, um, extremist groups. Very racist, very backwards. They did a lot of bad things.  _I_  did a lot of bad things." I remembered something Livia had said to me, when she was telling me about the Muggle World War II. "Sort of like Nazism. Hitler Youth."

I was rambling by that stage and very aware of it. I stopped talking. I practically hear her mind racing:  _Is this what you've been hiding, Mr Malfoy?_

Well. It's  _a_  thing I've been hiding. And I  _sort of_  told her the truth. Granger has written papers comparing the Dark Lord's reign to Nazi Germany.

"Are you…  _still_  involved in those things?" Miss Halcombe said carefully.

"No! No, I – um. It's been more than twenty years since… all of that. I don't –" I cleared my throat and looked away. "I'm sorry. I just thought you should know."

She watched me again, very carefully. I'm sure she knows that there's far more to it than my past, but she didn't say anything and I didn't offer anything else. Just when I was about to call it a failure and return home as quickly as possible to curl up into a little ball of shame and embarrassment, she said, "In that case, you should know that I don't usually make a habit of dating my students' attractive single fathers, Mr Malfoy."

"That's okay," I said faintly, although my mind was sort of joyfully caught on the fact that she considered me attractive, receding hairline and all. "I don't usually make a habit of dating my children's attractive and hopefully single teachers."

She laughed and turned a bit red. "Yes."

"Sorry?"

She smiled at me. "Yes, I would love to have lunch with you tomorrow."

I gaped at her. "I. Er. Good," I spluttered a bit. "Great! I mean – I'll see you tomorrow, then."

If Weasley could have seen my face, I wouldn't be allowed to tease his hair ever again. Miss Halcombe and I vaguely arranged details, agreeing upon lunch in a small restaurant not too far away from the school.

"Oh, and Mr Malfoy?" she said, cheeks faintly pink, before I started towards the Ministry car.

"Yes, Miss Halcombe?"

She gave me a grin that, yes, made me feel ridiculously happy. "You still owe me that horse-drawn carriage arrival."

**Things to do:**

**1.**   _Today_  – finalise contract with Aurors / ritual abuse of Potter and Weasley  
 **– 1.a.**  Celebratory ice cream in Diagon Alley with extended Potter and Weasley families  
 **– 1.b.**  Bring children (NB: forbid them from wearing anything red)  
 **2.**   _Near future_  – fix Non-magical Crimes Department – find assistant ( ? Teddy Lupin. Family ties, etc. etc.)  
 **3.**   _Near future_  – find and eventually buy a house in Muggle Kent (bribe/trick/beg Granger into helping)  
 **4.**   _Tomorrow_  – lunch with Marian  
 **– 4.a.**  Turn up in a horse-drawn carriage.

 

**the end**


	3. Ronald Weasley and the Midlife Crises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, things have been a bit strange for Ron over the last three years. Between an unlikely friendship with Draco Malfoy and his son begging to go to a Muggle school instead of Hogwarts, there is only so much time he can dedicate to his midlife crisis (and subsequently Harry's. And Hermione's. And Ginny's. And Malfoy's.) Even less than he thought, actually, now that he's just stumbled across a Ministry conspiracy. And all of Hufflepuff has disappeared, but no-one's worried about that.

**Chapter 1: from the completely unnecessary journal of Ronald Weasley I**

_10.08.2021_

I'm gonna kill Harry.

* * *

_11.08.2021_

No, I'm going to kill  _Malfoy_. Harry wouldn't have gotten this stupid idea if it wasn't for that git.

_Later_

I mean, diaries? What the  _hell_? Who keeps diaries at our age? Malfoy, that's who, and it's sad.

What the ruddy hell am I supposed to write in this thing anyway? If Harry and the stupid Auror shrinks expect me to be all, " _Dear Diary_ " I'm shoving this useless thing so far up Harry's arse that it'll come out of his scar.

I dunno what he was thinking. Took a few too many spells to head, if you ask me – that, or he's got a secret crush on Malfoy like the rest of the magical world at the moment.

What's the point in making us all keep diaries? It's like some sort of lame-arse, cheap-shit form of therapy that none of us need, 'cause the Ministry's stingy and Harry's trying to be New Age. (Bunch of bullshit, if you ask me.) Hermione says it'll be good for me, but I dunno if I should listen to her – she's really uptight these days.

I mean, yeah, Malfoy's diary was good for a laugh, but I wouldn't want anyone to read mine. If I had one, that is. But I don't, because I'm not a middle-aged man with receding bleached hair. And this doesn't count either. Because this is not my diary and I don't plan on writing in it. I'm just venting because this is stupid and Harry's a git. And Malfoy's a git as well.

So there.

* * *

_16.08.2021_

Dearest darling lovely diary,

Today is Monday, and today I'm feeling  _irritated_  because I'm being forced to write in you by Head Auror Harry Potter. Apparently this'll be good therapy and I have to keep writing because it'll make me  _feel_  better.

Hugs and butterfly kisses,

Ron Weasley

PS: Harry, if you ever read this, you're a git.

* * *

_19.08.2021_

Harry wants me to be serious about this thing. Like I don't have enough to do already! I tried to pull my Best Friends With The Head Auror card out on him today and asked if I really had to keep the diary.

"Journal," he said. Okay,  _journal_. Sounds better than diary. "And yes, you do have to keep it."

"But why? I'm fine!"

"It's for all of the Aurors, which means you have to participate," he said. "Look, the project is only being run until the end of January."

" _Harry…_ "

"All you have to do is put in a couple of entries about your feelings, or just a record of your day. Once a week, at  _least_. It's not like I'm asking for a Potions essay."

That made me shudder. I scowled at him. "Just until January?"

" _End_  of January," Harry said. "Please, Ron. If you do it, the others will do it."

"Malfoy's been doing it for years and it didn't catch on!"

Because it's  _stupid_. Duh. Anyway, basically, my attempt at  _not writing in this thing_  didn't work. I dunno if I even really need to write this – who's checking? Are they monitoring what we write? Who the hell are 'they', anyway? The shrinks, right?

Oh, and then I ran into Auror Ferret himself at the Ministry.

"Hello, Weasley."

"Don't talk to me," I growled and brandished this useless journal at him. "We're not friends anymore. I demoted you. We're back to being semi-non-antagonistic-parents-of-children-who-are-friends."

"Don't you think you're overreacting just a bit –?"

"Your  _face_  is overreacting!"

"…Right," Malfoy said. "Um. I'm going to talk to Potter."

Yeah, right, more like he's going to sweet-talk the press again. Seriously, he does it  _all the time_. With Livia. It's like, we  _get_  it already – Livia Malfoy, sweetheart of the magical world with her Pureblood, reformed Daddy as a working-class wizard. I'm rolling my eyes so hard right now.

I'm not dissing Livia. She's cute. It's just – everyone suddenly loves Malfoy. And yeah, he's changed and all, but bloody hell.

Anyway, my hand's getting tired. Like I don't have to write out enough reports as it is, now I've got to write in this thing! Screw that.

* * *

_31.08.2021_

Even Hermione's telling me to write in this thing. She wouldn't leave the room until I opened it! I'm sure Harry told her to keep an eye on me. He's gonna get it so hard when this 'project' rubbish is over.

So. Today. Hugo's started up with his Muggle school nonsense again, and I don't know why. He liked it at Hogwarts last year.

Except, you know, Hufflepuff.  _Hufflepuff._

Anyway, it's his second year this year. He goes back tomorrow, and tonight he came up to me and said, "Hey, Dad, can I go to a Muggle school instead?"

Look, I've got nothing against Livia. But  _come on_. "No, Hugo!" I said. "We've been over this already!"

"But –"

"You're a wizard!" A Hufflepuff wizard. "You're staying at Hogwarts."

"I can still learn magic!"

It's like the ultimate revenge or something. My daughter is best friends with Malfoy's son, my son is best friends with Malfoy's non-magical daughter, and Malfoy's popular again.

I argued with Hugo some more. I'd have gotten Hermione to argue with him (because she's really good when it comes to debating – she wins, every time. Scary, that woman) but she was off doing her Equal-Rights-For-Everything thing. Anyway, I gave up and said, "Can we make a deal?"

Hugo looked suss. "Depends on the deal."

That is  _such_  a Malfoy thing to say. When I was twelve, whatever deal my parents – well, Mum – gave me, I bloody well took. "If you finish Hogwarts and don't ask to go to a Muggle school for the next six years, I'll give you the okay to date Livia when you're finished going through puberty."

"Ew, Dad! Why would I  _date_  her? She's my best friend!"

Yeah, he says that now. I'm so holding that against him when he gets older.

* * *

_1.09.2021_

Well, the kids are off at school. Thank Merlin for that, too. I've just about had enough of that platform. I've got one hell of a nasty headache – I swear those kids are getting louder and louder every year. Ginny says I'm just getting old, but if I'm getting old then so is she 'cause she's only a year younger.

Speaking of Ginny, actually, I'm a bit worried about her. We had our "Kids Are At School" celebratory dinner earlier tonight, at her and Harry's house and she had some sort of freak out. Generally she's the one who feeds people now, because in between her Quidditch stuff she's been learning how to cook. Harry used to do it.

"Do you want any more to eat, Draco?"

She'd been doing that the whole night. Actually, according to Harry, she's been overfeeding  _everyone_  for a couple of months now. Malfoy's plate was still pretty full. "Oh, no thank you," he said. He can really pull the  _awkward_  look off – it's hilarious. "It's really fine –"

"No, I insist," Ginny said, and shovelled some more chicken and mash onto his place. "You're far too skinny –"

And then she broke off with a bit of a moan and her eyes widened. "Oh my God," she said, glancing at all of us. "I'm turning into my  _mother_." She grabbed Malfoy's plate away. "Stop eating! Don't eat anything!"

Malfoy had his fork poised in midair on its way to a non-existent plate. "But I'm hungry," he protested weakly as Ginny walked away with his food.

"No you're not! You're fat!"

"Ha," I said. "Your hair is receding  _and_  you're fat!"

Malfoy glared but it was really half-hearted.

Thing is, I'm fine with him when we're not working and he's not plastered all over the front cover of the  _Prophet_. I dunno why, that just irritates me. And it's not like he's being a git or anything like he used to at school. He's been smiling a lot these last two years. He's totally getting some on the side, but he won't 'fess up to who it is. The only reason I know it's not Hermione is because she's always happy after sex and she's been grumpy for a good six months now. Also I don't think Malfoy is into Muggleborns. I mean, yeah, his daughter's a Squib and he does all kinds of awesome shit for charities now, but if he ever gets a girlfriend again (hell, maybe he's got one now) I'm betting she's a Pureblood.

But yeah, Ginny. She's not the only one. Harry's been in this "perpetual state of worry" for a couple of years now. (Hermione's words, not mine.) Personally I don't think there's anything wrong with him except the occasional stress-out about the Auror budget cuts. That Giulia Gilbert – I really don't like her as Minister. I don't like her at all, actually. To think all those years ago we had bets on Percy running for Minister. But, nope, he turns around and becomes an Unspeakable and I  _still_  don't know how the bloody hell that happened.

Kinda wish he'd gone for a boring admin job, though. I feel sorry for his kids, 'cause they don't get to see him much. I'd hate to not see my kids as often as possible.

I've written a lot. Two days in a row, at that! This'll tide Harry over for the next couple of weeks or so, right?

Stupid project.

* * *

  
  
**Chapter 2: from the completely unnecessary journal of Ronald Weasley II**

_25.09.2021_

I'm rebelling and write a journal entry instead of doing my paperwork. If Harry doesn't like it then it's his own fault. He can't have his cake and eat it too.

Although, I've always thought that was a pretty stupid saying. What's the point of having a cake if you can't eat it?

Nothing much has been happening. Malfoy's driving me insane – driving everyone insane, actually, with Pantera's old cold cases. I get that he's still chuffed to be an Auror, but blimey, you'd think the buzz would have worn off by now. I heard it mentioned that he might be up for Best Auror of the Month, and Harry keeps mentioning that he's done wonders for the Non-Magical Crimes Department, so that'll give him an ego boost. Not that he needs it.

Also, I'm sick of seeing his face in the Witch Weekly. Not that I read the Witch Weekly. Rose has a subscription and leaves her copies around the house. Load of trash, if you ask me.

Business at WWW is going well.

* * *

_26.09.2021_

And, yep, front-page news again in the  _Prophet_. I mean, bloody hell! Doesn't Malfoy have a job? Work? How does he find the  _time_  for this? I'm holding down two jobs and it's hard enough as it is!

The  _Prophet_  started calling him "Lord" Malfoy about a year back. I'm pretty sure the original article was supposed to be sarcastic – you know, mocking his efforts with Livia's involvement in the magical world and how  _Lord_  Draco Malfoy thinks he can do whatever he pleases – but it totally backfired because now everyone calls him Lord Malfoy with complete seriousness and he never corrected them.

…Fair enough, I guess. I wouldn't correct someone if they called me a Lord.

Lord Weasley. Hmm. Yeah, I could get used to that.

* * *

_29.09.2021_

I hate this journal. Harry and Hermione said it was supposed to make us all  _feel_  better. Fat lot of good it's doing!

So. Problems and recount. Therapy and all that. Hermione's having an existential crisis.

"I feel like I haven't done anything with my life, Ron!"

She said that last night,  _just_  after we'd turned out the lights. Of all the times… I mean, bloody hell,  _really? We're doing this now?_

I pretended I was half asleep and muttered "yep" the way I always do. It's a pretty standard response – gets me out of a lot of conversations – but it didn't work this time. She rolled over (and I got a mouthful of her hair) and cried, "You think so too!"

I had to do a  _lot_  of fast-talking, so she's not angry at  _me_ , but now she wants to be a lawyer. She's already an activist for everything under the sun and she's never been _not_  busy, so I don't know anymore. I just smile and nod and act supportive these days.

* * *

_2.10.21_

Damn, Hufflepuff.

I mean, it's Hufflepuff. Hufflepuff, right? They're the, you know,  _good_ kids of the school. The ones who behave and shit.

Details are a bit sketchy, but I'm almost positive Hugo had something to do with it. I should have checked his trunk properly before I sent him off to Hogwarts – last year he lost his House about a hundred points all up because of his experiments on Muggle technology. So nothing's been confirmed yet but somehow Hugo, because of his scientific disasters he likes to call "inventions", managed to lose Hufflepuff 2000 points.

In the first month of the term.

They were sitting on  _minus_  1930 points. I mean, holy crap, that's pretty impressive as it is, right? But nooooo, they just had to take things further.

All of freakin' Hufflepuff has disappeared. Just completely gone.

Hermione's telling me to take deep breaths, but I'm not panicking. I don't know how  _she's_  being calm about this, though. It could be the wine she's had. Because, oh yeah, our son has disappeared.

And bloody Neville, that stupid letter he sent us – "Please don't panic, but your kid vanished."

Apparently it's happened like four times before. Any time the Hufflepuffs lose an obscene amount of points they just vanish. _For the whole year_. And no-one ever finds out where they go or how they do it.

Blimey. I'm going to crack open another bottle to share with Hermione.

Freakin' Hufflepuff, man.

* * *

_27.10.21_

Harry Floo'd today to whine about Ginny again but I didn't pay much attention. Some more about her refusing to share the housework load or not fixing dinner on alternate nights anymore.

"C'mon, Ron, what do you do with Hermione when she's in a mood?"

Look, I know he's my best friend and all but there are some things even best friends don't tell each other.

"Are you writing in your journal?"

"Yes," I lied. It wasn't really, though, 'cause I'm writing in it now. Not that it'll even  _matter_  – when's he ever gonna read this? He's such a hen-pecker. If Ginny's worried she's turning into Mum, she's got  _nothing_  on Harry.

Anyway, he left after that. So here is a summary of my life right now: Hermione wants to be a lawyer, Ginny thinks she's turning into mum, Harry is in a perpetual state of worry, my son is missing, and I still have to write in this stupid piece of shit.

Effemel.

* * *

  
  
**Chapter 3: correspondence I**

_17.10.21_

Dear Rose,

Remember when you were ten and you wished you were an only child? SURPRISE!

Nah, I'm just kidding, it's pretty rubbish that Hufflepuff's disappeared. What exactly happened with Hugo, do you know? Neville mentioned something about him almost blowing up a corridor.

Your Mum's going spare but keeping herself distracted by consoling Muggle parents of children who were in Hufflepuff and brandishing her law textbooks all over the place. Anyway, I hope you're doing okay. How are classes going so far?

Love,

Dad

* * *

_29.10.21_

Dear Dad,

Ha, ha.

I'm fine. Most of the students think it's absolutely hilarious that the 'Puffs have disappeared. I'm actually just a bit puzzled about it all, and worried about Hugo. I haven't heard anything from him, but apparently this is something of a Hufflepuff tradition – they always come back at the end of the year. I always thought they were a bit of an odd House.

What happened was, Hugo tried to spell a mobile phone so that it could get reception at the school. It… didn't work.

I heard about Mum's sudden law obsession. I hope she doesn't run herself into the ground with work.

Classes are going well, mostly. I'm still first in all my classes except Transfiguration and Potions – but I  _don't_  need tutoring from Scorpius or Albus! I'll beat them on my own.

James has been acting weird though. He's been reading a heap of history books lately, ever since Uncle Harry bought him a pile for his birthday last year. Last week he started taking over History of Magic! He fanned Professor Binns into the corner of the room and started teaching, and skipped out on some of his other classes to do it. Should I be worried?

Anyway, everything is okay. I'll be home for Christmas.

Love,

Rose

PS: Happy Halloween!

* * *

_7.11.21_

Potter,

Strange about those Hufflepuff kids going missing. I always thought they were a bunch of odd people.

Listen, I need your permission to reopen the Jackson Mills case. Pantera closed it (rather, let it go cold, the lazy bastard) two years ago and I've finally caught up on the backlog. I'm making it more important than I had it before – I've been investigating and I think the case is far more complicated than it appears. I don't think it was a simple mugging. Mills was in the same post-Hogwarts Potions course as Katerina Kingson and was attacked and killed on his way home from the 2018 Annual Westminster Potions Conference. Pantera classified it as a mugging because the only thing found on Mills's body was an empty wallet.

When you see Teddy next, tell him I'm not giving him a pay rise unless he starts working more hours and stops bringing Victoire to the office. I've had to replace my desk  _three times_  in the last two years.

D. Malfoy

* * *

_10.11.21_

Malfoy,

Hufflepuff has always been very unique.

I think you're right about the Mills/Kingson coincidence. Go ahead and open the case and see if anything else turns up.

As for Teddy: he stopped being my responsibility the moment you tempted him with money. You have no-one to blame for him but yourself! I'm not paying for the desks, either. Just tell him to hurry up and propose or something.

H. Potter

* * *

_19.11.21_

Dear Ron,

You never come around anymore! How are you and Hermione? I heard about Hugo when Hufflepuff disappeared. I have to say, the Hufflepuff crowd have always been a bit  _odd_ , if you know what I mean, so it's not  _unexpected_. But I do hope he'll be all right and that he'll be back soon. You let me and your father know the instant you hear anything about him, Ronald! You and your siblings need to come around more often, or at least some of my grandchildren! It's so sad when they're all off at school.

I wanted to ask about Ginny - have you spoken to her recently? She keeps sending back the cooking books I give her! Talk some sense into her, please! I'm sending a copy of  _Magical Marge's Magnificent Macaroons_  for you to pass on to her.

Much love,

Mum

* * *

_24.11.21_

Ron! If Mum sends you anything asking about the cooking books do  _not_  do anything she says! And don't you  _dare_  send me of those recipe books because I don't want them, especially not that macaroon one she tried to give me the other week. I gained four kilos alone from macaroons! I know Mum says it's okay to look "healthy" which is her version of "fat" but I'm a Quidditch professional, Ron! I can't afford to have that extra weight!

PS: Ron, it's Harry. Are you still writing in your journal?

* * *

_27.11.21_

Blimey, Ginny, chill out! You're not going to turn into Mum by accepting a couple of cookbooks! Unless you're about to pop out four more kids, I dunno why you're stressing out so much. If anyone's turning in our mother, it's Harry.

PS:  _Yes, mother._

* * *

_1.12.21_

**RETURNED TO SENDER**

FORWARD TO:  
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Hugo Weasley  
Weasley House, St. Andrew's Road  
Avon, Portbury  
Somerset BS24 9AY, UK

Dear Hugo,

I wrote a letter to you shortly after Dad told me Hufflepuff disappeared, but it was sent back to me. I hope this letter reaches you. I haven't heard from you since your last letter in September. Dad has told me not to worry and that Hufflepuff has disappeared before, but it isn't like you to not reply.

Even if you don't get this letter, I promised that I'd write about school.

I'm in my first year of senior school, as you know. The teachers are a lot stricter and the classes harder, but they're a lot of fun. History is still my favourite – we're covering ancient Egypt, which I know you'd enjoy – but I love English a lot as well. We looked at Shakespeare a bit last year but we're doing our first proper study of one of his comedies,  _A Midsummer Night's Dream_. I think you'd find it a bit silly, though – Muggles have very enjoyable notions of magic.

Speaking of magic, I've been keeping up with my magical theory lessons. I sometimes wish Dad wouldn't insist upon them – it isn't as though I'll ever actually be able to employ them. Scorpius has given me some of his old textbooks but – and please, don't tell anyone! – I get upset when I look at them. I know it's silly and I know I can't change what is, but I… I wish I had been born magical. Dad's doing his best to keep me part of the magical world but it's hard because I know people still call be a 'Squib' behind my back, and some of the girls at my school think I'm odd.

But you don't need to hear about that! Sorry for putting a downer on this letter. Sometimes I feel like you're the only person I can talk to about this, even if you might not reply.

I hope you're safe and well. It'll be your 13th birthday in a fortnight; I'll write again then.

Please write back and let me know you're all right.

Love,

Livia

* * *

_10.12.21_

Hey George,

Would you mind watching the store for the next two weeks? I'm needed double-time at the Ministry because a bunch of idiots thought it would be funny to try and break into Gringotts.

Thanks.

Ron

PS: Don't let Mum send you any cookbooks to give to Ginny. It's not worth it.

* * *

_11.12.21_

Ron,

It's Christmas. I'm not doing it on my own. I don't care what kind of schedule Harry has you on, you make sure you get that lazy arse of yours down to the shop and pull your hours! That, or pry Teddy out of Malfoy's grip and make him work for us.

George

PS: You warned me about three days too late.

PPS: Is Hermione still doing her weird law thing? I've got an early Christmas present for her! It's just a prototype but I think she'll appreciate it. It's a De-stresser! Just what she needs, yeah? Last time I saw her, I think her hair was falling out.

* * *

11.12.21

You absolute bloody prat, that banana is disgusting, what the hell is wrong with you?

If you want Teddy you can talk to Malfoy yourself – I tried to ask him the last time we met up for ice cream and he just said that he's not giving up his hired help. So I asked Victoire instead and she's happy to help out at WWW instead of me.

* * *

_15.12.21_

**RETURNED TO SENDER**

FORWARD TO:  
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Hugo Weasley  
Weasley House, St. Andrew's Road  
Avon, Portbury  
Somerset BS24 9AY, UK

Dear Hugo,

Well, your last letter was returned and I think this one probably will too. But for what it's worth: happy birthday. I'm enclosing your present as well, but I don't know if you'll get it.

I miss you, and I still hope to see you around Christmas.

Love,

Livia

* * *

_17.12.21_

Percy,

Can you come to my office as soon as you can? I need to talk to you about something.

Harry

* * *

  
  
**Chapter 4: from the completely unnecessary journal of Ronald Weasley III**

_15.12.21_

Disclaimer: I still think this diary stuff is stupid. So, first entry of December. I've been a bit slack. So what?

Yesterday was pretty average. I tripped over one of Hermione's law books last night and I think I strained my ankle.

Hogwarts sent the kids back home a week earlier than usual for Christmas – they came back yesterday. Probably 'cause of Hufflepuff – not that it really does me and Hermione much good, since one of our kids  _is_  in Hufflepuff!

Anyway, Harry and Ginny brought James, Al, and Lily over yesterday. Wasn't really the same without Hugo, but the kids didn't seem too worried. Pretty chill, if anything. I heard them talking as I walked past the living room earlier:

"Yo, sis!" James said to Lily.

"Whaddup, bro?"

"The shizz, yo."

"That's cooltastic, my man!"

Modern talk is strange, but hey, if that's what's happening.

Later I asked James about taking over the History of Magic classes, though more out of concern for his mental health than any actual interest. I mean, History of Magic? Really? Harry's and Ginny's son? Blows my mind. He says that Harry got him interested in history when he gave him a history book for his birthday last year. And then he started paying attention to Binns (seriously, who  _does_ that?) and decided to make the class interesting because apparently the history of magic is interesting.

_Apparently._

* * *

17.12.21

I'm only writing this now so I don't have to later. Two entries in two days, geeze…

Spent the day at the Ministry. Thankfully the Gringotts stuff is all wrapped up now – bunch of stupid kids who thought it'd be hilarious to break into the bank. Not so funny now that they're cursed fifty shades of fucked up! Also not funny is the sheer amount of paperwork I have about it. Waste of time.

Anyway. Today was a bit stranger than usual, but more or less average. I ran into Percy at work – don't often do that, since he's usually locked away in the Department of Mysteries – as I was on my way up to talk to Harry. He was coming out of Harry's office. Looked a bit frazzled.

"You okay, Perce?" I asked.

Percy did this weird double take at me and blinked. "Yes, Ron. Fine. Thanks. How are you?"

"You know, hanging in there."

"Good," he said. "Excellent. I'm – very glad to hear it." Then he added, "How's the diary coming along?"

Percy's become a bit cheekier than I'd like. I mean, at least way back when he was predictable. Now I don't know what the heck to expect.

I scowled a bit. "It's coming along," I grumbled, and Percy – the twat – smirked at me.  _His_  Department doesn't have to keep ruddy diaries. "Say, do you know anything about Hufflepuff?"

Percy shook his head. "No. I'm sorry, Ron." He touched my shoulder and said, "But for what it's worth, Hugo will be fine. Hufflepuff, you know."

Yeah, that's what everyone keeps saying. It doesn't mean it's making me feel  _better_. Yeah, it's all fun and games when a House disappears but I'd still like to know that my son is okay. I said, "Thanks, Percy. Say 'hi' to Audrey and the girls for me."

"Of course. My regards to Hermione and Rose."

When I went in to Harry's office, he didn't even notice me coming in until I closed the door. He shoved something in his desk drawer quickly – I'm positive it was a journal (ha! He's keeping one as well, then!).

"Yo, Harry, my man!" I said. "Whaddup!"

Harry stared at me. I don't think he was very impressed, but Harry doesn't keep up with the groove like I do. "…Work?" he said.

"That's the shizz, yo."

"…I think you should stop listening to my kids, Ron." He took of his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "How's the journal going?"

I rolled my eyes because that's pretty much what every single one of our conversations has been like since this stupid therapy thing started. "Bloody hell, Harry –"

"Come on, Ron, just tell me you've been writing in it –"

"I have! Blimey!"

"Sorry," he sighed. Hermione's right – he  _did_  look tired, way more than usual. "It's not for much longer. Just until the end of January, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," I said, and Harry handed me a bundle of parchment. "What's this?"

"I need you to take them down to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for me, since you're here. Just some paperwork for the Gringotts stuff. Is that okay?"

"Oi, I'm not your messenger boy," I said, but he looked so damn tired that I took pity on him and raced the paperwork down to MLE. I mean, yeah, I only went by to say 'hi' but I wasn't doing anything else.

I ran into Malcolm Baddock and another Auror on the way down. Well, I say "ran into", I really mean I walked up behind them and eavesdropped because I was bored and I thought I heard them mention Malfoy.

Not that I'm obsessed. 'Cause I'm not.

Anyway, they didn't say anything interesting, and I don't think it was about Malfoy either.

"…needs to keep his bloody nose out of it otherwise I'll never get the money –"

"…does he know about the prototype that cat –?"

"Forget the cat, Jack!"

"Hello, Weasley," Baddock said loudly as soon as he noticed I was there. "Can we help you with anything?"

"Er. No," I said. "It's fine."

The other one – I forget the name – was frowning at me so I left. Touchy, or what? Anyway, I delivered Harry's paperwork and went back to my office. I passed Malfoy on my way back, but he was with a photographer for the  _Prophet_.

Lord Malfoy, at it again. Hopefully he won't bring a journalist along to the Christmas dinner.

I managed to get some alone time with Hermione in the afternoon. Rose spent the day with Albus and Scorpius and is going to stay the night at Harry's and Ginny's. I managed to convince Hermione to put aside the law books for a bit – because, look, it's great that she wants to have a proper career (mind, the one she had before was plenty proper, I think she just likes working more than she can handle it) but it's kind of awkward sharing the bed with a dozen magical law books.

"I'm so worried about Hugo," she said.

"Yeah, me too," I said.

She sniffled a bit into my shoulder then said, "You know what I could really use right now?"

"What?"

"That banana De-stresser thing George sent."

I stared at her and she stared at me, and then we both started laughing.

(I'm a better De-stresser than that thing, anyway.)

And… that was my day. More or less.

* * *

_26.12.21_

So.

I sat down just now to write a second entry for December. A recount of the Christmas dinner – large family and friends gathering, all the siblings and nieces and nephews (basically everyone except Hugo: Livia spent most of the dinner looking tragic and earning lots of sympathy hugs from everyone. I mean, yeah, poor girl losing her BFF but I'm Hugo's father! Where were my hugs?) and a meal that Harry managed to convince Ginny to make. Malfoy and I ate ice cream afterwards. Good night. Had fun.

The problem is: I already have two entries for December. The second one was written on the 17th, and I don't have a memory of that day at all. I don't even remember writing it.

* * *

  
  
**Chapter 5: from the actually-sort-of-necessary journal of Ronald Weasley IV**

_26.12.21_

I really don't like it when things don't make sense.

Granted, that happens more often than I personally care for. But in this  _particular_ instance, things  _really_  didn't make sense. Such as a journal entry that I had no memory of writing, let alone a journal entry of a day I didn't remember living!

At least I know I'm not going mad now. Really thought I was for a sec, though. This morning… Merlin, I don't know where to start. It's almost midnight now and today was really long and stressful. I'm gonna recount the whole day because as much as I don't like doing this, I'm kinda freaked out and… I need to start writing out my days now.

This morning after I wrote the previous entry, I stared at the journal and flicked through the pages like a lunatic. Because, I remembered the 16th and the 18th, right? But for the life of me, I couldn't remember anything about the 17th. I know I don't have the best memory, but I'm not  _that_  bad.

"Hermione?" I said.

"Yes?"

"Come here for a sec, will you?"

She sighed loudly from the other side of the bedroom and bookmarked her law book, and came over to stand behind me. "What is it?"

She was just grumpy because I'd pulled her away from her midlife crisis, but I wasn't really in the mood to tease her at the time. I'll do it later. I pointed at the page of the journal – specifically, the conversation I'd supposedly recorded between me and his wife and the implications of activities after. 'Cause, you know, I'm sure I'd remember something like that. "Do you remember saying this?"

She leaned over my shoulder to peer at the words.

Definitely my handwriting, I thought. I expected Hermione would frown at that and ask what it was, but she smiled instead.

"Mmm, yes," she murmured, and pressed a kiss to my shoulder. "And I remember what we did afterwards, too…"

"I don't."

Hermione stood back and crossed her arms. "Oh, well,  _pardon me_  –!"

Self-preservation instinct usually kicks in when Hermione's voice turns hard and offended. Like, normally I'd backtrack and as possible and begin a process of furiously begging for forgiveness then sleeping on the couch and eating baked beans on toast for a couple of nights. But this time I just said, "No, I mean, I  _literally_  don't remember anything that happened that day. I don't even remember writing this." I turned around to face her. "I think my memory's been tampered with."

I'm glad to say that sleeping on the couch and baked beans are not on the agenda. Some perks to getting your memory wiped, I guess. I immediately went to the Ministry after this, straight to Harry's office.

"Mate, there's a problem." I held up this stupid diary. "Looks like this journal stuff was useful after all."

I gave him a short run-down – saw an entry I didn't remember writing about a day I didn't remember living. Harry locked his door and threw up a Silencing charm and a Muffliato. Bit paranoid, but I didn't complain. He made me sit down on his desk, and he shone a Lumos in my eyes. I winced.

"Sorry."

"S'okay."

Then he picked up the journal and flicked through it. I winced, 'cause, you know, I've written a couple of snide things, but Harry didn't say anything. "Well, it's yours. You definitely wrote it. Handwriting matches up, tone indicates normal thought patterns. You're perfectly capable of throwing off the Imperius, so it's highly unlikely you were under it. And you did come into my office that day and I did ask you take papers down to MLE for me – you seemed fine. It stands to reason that the rest of the entry happened as well."

"Hermione confirmed the last part," I muttered, and Harry  _hmmed_.

"So you're absolutely certain that you don't remember  _anything_  –"

"Nothing."

Harry put the journal down and faced me. "Can I perform Legilimency on you? Just to check to see if your memory has been tampered with."

"Yeah, fine," I said.

It didn't take very long. Harry murmured " _Legilimens_ ," and I felt him shift through a couple of memories. Bit uncomfortable, really. I didn't think he would be so, you know, good at it either. He sucked at school. No offence, of course, it's just the truth. He sighed and pulled away. "You've been Obliviated. A couple of days ago, I'd say."

I did  _not_  feel good. "I didn't even realise," I said.

"It's a good one. Really subtle."

"That's not making me feel better, mate. They erased a  _whole day_. And I didn't even  _notice_."

At that, Harry raised an eyebrow. " _Noticing_  an Obliviate kind of defeats the purpose. But you recorded the day."

"Only because you were forcing those entries at me like my Mum used to ram vegetables down my throat when I was a kid –"

"Yeah, lucky, that," Harry muttered.

"But  _why?_ "

Harry pursed his lips. "That's what I intend to find out. Let's start with Percy."

"Why Percy?"

"To retrace your steps."

Dunno if I've mentioned this or not, but I'm pretty rubbish at making my way through the Department of Mysteries. I really hate going down there – it reminds me way too much of our fifth year and we broke in. That brain? I still get nightmares. But yeah, I'm no good at navigating the place. Harry, though? He walked around there like he had a map drawn on the back of his hand. How much time does he spend down there?

Anyway. Percy was, of course, surprised to see me and Harry down there – although more so at me, since I don't have many excuses to skulk around the Department of Mysteries. "I've seen you two days in a row," I drawled – 'cause I saw him at the Christmas dinner, see. Surprised he was even there, actually. "I'm getting spoiled!"

Percy laughed, but Harry didn't. "Nothing to write home about, Ron."

"I dunno, I reckon Mum'll be delighted to hear that someone's seen you more than once a month."

"Speaking of," Harry interrupted, "Percy, did you speak to Ron on the 17th? After leaving my office?"

"I did," Percy replied, frowning. "Why do you ask?"

Harry shrugged. "Just checking."

Percy looked about as convinced by Harry as I was – which is to say, not at all. "Everything all right?"

"For now," Harry said. "How are things down here?"

"Coming along well so far."

Whatever was going along well so far, me and the rest of the Ministry have no blooming clue, but Harry nodded like it made sense. "Good. Great! I'll leave you to it."

Percy nodded at us both, thanked me again for the Christmas, and went in the opposite direction. Harry shoved his hands in his pockets. "C'mon. Let's track down Baddock."

I was starting to feel like a dog on a leash, the way Harry kept dragging me around, and very nearly said so. But I decided that my memory was ever so slightly more important than my pride. Just for today. So. It took an annoyingly long time to find Malcolm Baddock.

You know, I've never really  _liked_  Baddock. He's  _okay_ , I guess, but he's a bit shifty and Once A Slytherin, Always A Slytherin, as far as I'm concerned. He's a decent Auror and a pretty smart guy, and I don't actually have much to do with him outside of the occasional joint case. Me and Harry found Baddock on the Magical Law Enforcement level of the Ministry in his office alone.

"Auror Baddock, how are you doing today?" Harry said by way of announcing his presence, not so much as knocking. Rude, but I'm not one to talk. Baddock looked faintly annoyed but still stood up in respect and nodded.

"Good, thanks, Potter. Something up?"

I hovered next to Harry as Harry spoke: "Actually, yes – I was wondering if you could help me and Ron. We're trying to retrace his steps on the day of the 17th."

"Why?"

"He was supposed to take some paperwork down to MLE for me but it never got there and he can't remember what he did with it."

Now, see, I'm a pretty good Auror. A damn good one, if I do say so myself. I've got plenty of experience where I've been thrown into situation where I need a poker face. Comes with the job and all. But what Harry said was a lie, and it was a really smooth fib. It was a bit hard to not look surprised.

"Getting old, Weasley? Losing your memory?" Baddock replied, the arsehole, and I scowled at him.

"Listen, Malcolm," Harry said quickly, "it was kind of important – you haven't seen any lost paperwork around, have you?"

"No, sorry."

Harry made a small noise of irritation, but one that was aimed at  _me_ , not Baddock. "You sure?"

"Very sure."

"Did you see Ron at all that day?"

"No."

Harry didn't lose a beat and kept talking before I could accuse Baddock of being a lying liar who lied. "All right. Thanks, Malcolm. If you see that paperwork, let me know, okay?"

"Sure, Potter. Weasley."

We left, and as soon as we were out the door, Harry grabbed my arm and started striding. "Come on, we haven't asked Malfoy yet."

I gaped at Harry a bit, because  _dang_. "When did you get so good at lying?"

"Oh, you know," Harry replied vaguely, "necessity of the job."

"I wouldn't have written something down that didn't happen."

"I know. I'm sure Malcolm was lying about seeing you."

"Why?"

Harry slowed down, glanced around, and cast a  _Muffliato_  around us. "Listen," Harry said quietly, "I think you overheard something you weren't supposed to."

"And you think that I overheard Malcolm talking. You think Malcolm Obliviated me."

Makes sense.

"I do," Harry agreed, "but I don't have any proof."

"Except the journal, which says I heard them talking about cats. Dunno about you, mate, but that doesn't seem much of a reason to Obliviate someone."

"There must be something else. Come with me."

"Where are we going?"

"To talk to Malfoy."

"You can talk to the prat yourself, he's probably busy with a camera crew –"

"Ron, this is serious!" Harry paused and sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose, looking very tired. Hermione's right. He doesn't look well. Can't really remember the last time he smiled for real. I hope he's okay. "When it comes down to it, I trust our families and I trust Malfoy, and no-one else."

That was… news to me.

"Malfoy saw you that day. Any extra bit of information helps. And he's good at solving things."

So we went to Malfoy's office. I'm not going to wax poetic about the trip over – I know Malfoy likes to write novellas in his journal about every second of every day, and even though I should record everything that happens to me, don't expect detail about this sort of stuff. Harry and I walked to his office, and it was boring. We got there and went into his freakishly neat office unannounced, and Malfoy was at his desk. He _wasn't_  playing with his baseball bat this time, which is something. And no, that is not an innuendo or hip talk, I'm being literal. Seriously, last time I went into his office unannounced, I found him dancing and swinging around an actual Muggle baseball bat while singing "Twist and Shout".

It was all kinds of awkward.

So, no, he wasn't swinging the baseball bat around, but he was dropping something into the Relationship Advice Box

"Malfoy," Harry greeted, and Malfoy said hi back.

"'Sup, Malfoy," I said.

He grimaced, because he's not with the groove either. "Weasley, no." Then he faced Harry. "Potter, we need to talk about your psychotic owl. I think it's trying to –"

"Not now, Draco."

"Oh. Something wrong?"

"Yeah." Harry was holding onto my journal a little bit too tightly. "Did you see Ron at all on the 17th, coming back up from MLE?"

"…I…" Malfoy thought about it for a moment. "Yes? I think so. Why?"

I scowled and talked over Harry, because it was my damn memory that was erased and I could talk perfectly well. "My memory's been tampered with."

Malfoy started. "What? When? Are – are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Except that, you know, my memory's been messed with."

Harry took over again and gave Malfoy a quick rundown.

"…so basically, we're certain Baddock has something to do with it. I think Ron overheard something he shouldn't have and his memory of the day was erased sometime between the 17th and Christmas. And I'm positive it has to do with Baddock's conversation with this unidentified Auror." Harry passed my journal over. Seriously, he just  _handed it over_  like it was a Chocolate Frog. I know it was just Malfoy, but come on! "That's the entry, there. And today Baddock denied even seeing Ron at all, so…"

I admit, I twitched and resisted the urge to rip the journal out of Malfoy's hands and hide it. I know Malfoy hasn't forgotten the time we read his journal after the Pantera incident – he's been biding his time. But he didn't laugh, so that was surprising. Also worrying, because it just means later he's gonna get his revenge.

"'Needs to keep his bloody nose out of it…'" Malfoy murmured. "Money, prototype, cat… Jack…" He frowned. "Prototype."

"Mean anything to you?" Harry asked, and Malfoy was silent for a few moments.

"Maybe. Baddock was the one who reached Jackson Mills' body first, then turned it over to Pantera when he decided it was a non-magical crime. I have reason to believe that – that an experimental potion Mills was working on was stolen, but –" He shrugged "I don't know what cats have to do with it. Must be one hell of a cat to earn a memory wipe, though, Weasley."

"Har, har."

Harry took this journal back and passed it to me. I… might have clutched it a bit tighter than necessary.

"The good thing is, we have an advantage." Harry pointed at the journal. "That diary."

"Journal," I corrected. I sound like Malfoy now. Definitely been spending too much time around the little shit. "And it's not much of an advantage if we don't know what the heck it's an advantage over."

"We know that Baddock is trying to hide something," Harry said. "And we know it might be about Malfoy, and possibly the Jackson Mills case. Everyone knows you two hang out together, so by wiping Ron's memory, he couldn't warn you if Baddock was planning on doing something to you."

We really need to be more subtle about the ice cream trips.

"So now what?" Malfoy said.

"Now," Harry said, "we keep this to ourselves. Just us three. We can't let anyone know that we're aware Ron's memories have been altered or the advantage that we have. We keep writing in the journals – record every minute of every day, and reread what you write as often as you can. Malfoy, Ron – I want you two to be each other's lookouts."

So Malfoy's coming over tomorrow night to compare diary entries with me, like it's some sort of tea party. This really won't help the rumours about us being gay.

After that, I went home. I told Hermione everything, of course. Nothing much else happened for the rest of the day. I played a game of Quidditch with the kids and I lost to Rose. It was completely intentional. Tripped over another one of Hermione's law books. Ginny's still refusing to cook, and Harry's been eating tuna out of a can.

I'm gonna keep my eye on Baddock now. Creep.

* * *

  
  
**Chapter 6: from the actually-sort-of-necessary journal of Ronald Weasley V**

_29.12.21_

Keeping in with my promise to record everything as often as possible, here's another recount of my day. It was pretty boring, to be honest – nothing notable happened, but it can't hurt to make sure I've got a proper record of everything.

Hung out in Harry's office for most of the morning. He was signing his way through a stack of paperwork. You know, his desk is almost as messy as mine, but you don't see Hermione nagging  _him_  about it possibly becoming sentient. I messed around and I think I broke his Foe Glass, but with luck he won't find out for a few more days.

Malfoy was keeping an eye on Baddock today while he got Teddy to research into the Jackson Mills case a bit more. Not that I think Teddy's doing any proper work – he probably just uses Malfoy's office for fun times with Victoire. Kinda makes me feel sorry for Malfoy. He's replaced his desk way too many times.

"Blimey, I hope next year's better than this one," I muttered. "My son's missing, my wife wants to be a lawyer, my memory's been tampered with – what in Merlin's name could go wrong next?"

Harry groaned. "You  _had_  to ask, didn't you…"

And yep, as soon as he said that, a Patronus charged through his wall and delivered a message to him. Harry sighed and stood up, and locked his desk drawers.

"Two unauthorised people were found in the Department of Mysteries. Want to come down and question them with me?"

I didn't have anything better to do. Other than the paperwork from the messy Gringotts thing, but bugger anyone who thinks I'm going to do paperwork when it's almost the New Year. Anyway. We went down together to the interrogation rooms. It was the small, dinky one, too dark for my liking and too small for comfort.

"I always feel a bit claustrophobic in that one. And I saw a spider in here a couple of weeks ago."

"There are no spiders, Ron," Harry said as he opened the door, stepped through, and… then he stepped back out and closed the door firmly behind him. Before it closed, I glanced in and saw the room was empty.

"What, weren't they in there?"

"No, they were. I let them go."

"…Well, didn't you want question them?"

"I did." He looked kinda sick. Pale.

"That was… fast," I said, mystified.

"I think you spaced out, Ron," Harry said. "It was a paperwork mix-up – they were qualified to be down there. Have you been getting any sleep?"

It's been a bit restless, but I've been getting at least three or four hours a night. I've run on less than that, and I've never spaced out from sleep deprivation before. But I guess there's a first time for everything. "Not enough," I admitted, and Harry sighed and hunched his shoulders. "You okay, mate? You look weird."

Harry smiled – it was a tight smile, the one he used to give people after the Pantera fiasco – and clapped me a bit too hard on the shoulder. "I'm fine, Ron. Just a bit stressed out."

"Know the feeling," I snorted.

"Are  _you_  all right?"

"Aside from knowing my mind's been tampered with?" I laughed, but Harry winced. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Just… let me know if you're not feeling okay." Harry paused and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Why don't we – uh – go to the Three Broomsticks? Nothing else is on for today."

"You've got paperwork."

"I've always got paperwork. Come on, it's been a while. Drinks on me."

Harry's right, it  _had_  been a really long while. So I said yes, but even now it makes me feel awkward when Harry pays for my drinks. He really insisted this time, so I let him. Perks of having your memory tampered with – you get treated like royalty. Maybe I should get myself in danger a bit more often.

Still no news about Hufflepuff. I miss Hugo.

So far my journal matches up with Malfoy's. He popped over just now to do a comparison thingy. It bugs me how eloquent he is. Like, every single one of his entries is a prize-winning novel. And then he buggered back off to Kent to spend the rest of the break in his Muggle house with his kids.

Malfoy, in a  _Muggle house_. I still can't get over it.

My hand hurts. I haven't had to write this much since Hermione made me sit the NEWTs.

* * *

_30.12.21_

Spent the day at home today. Not much to say. Hermione was off doing a test for her law stuff today, so she can hang a certificate on the wall and go off and properly represent people in court instead of just being an equal-rights activist. Good on her.

Rose will be going back to school soon, but she insisted on having her friends all come over today. Bit pointless if you ask me – she's going to see them all in a few days anyway.

Al and Scorpius and the Scamander twins. I've been a bit concerned that she doesn't have any close female friends, but Hermione told me that she turned out just fine with me and Harry as her two mates for all seven years of school. So, yeah, I guess so. Anyway, I wasn't alone in the house. George and Percy keep teasing me and telling me to watch out, and that if I'm not careful I'll probably end up with  _both_  my kids marrying Malfoys (ha, ha, ha).

Scorpius is a good-looking young man, better than Malfoy was at the age of 16 anyway, and I'd be worried about how much time Scorpius spends with Rose if I wasn't so sure he's got his eyes on Albus instead. I mean, the kid's not exactly subtle. I wonder how long it'll take for Malfoy to notice.

No, it's those Scamander kids I'm worried about. I'm keeping my eye on Lysander in particular.

* * *

_31.01.21_

Wow, Malfoy wasn't lying about Harry's owl being psychotic around his owl.

Spent the day at home again – New Year's Eve and all that. Had fun. We watched fireworks at nine o'clock, just an hour ago. Malfoy wasn't there – apparently he was in Kent again. I tried to visit him earlier at the Manor but his House Elf said he was at his _other_  house. Bugger that, I wasn't travelling all the way over there. I get that he has a house up there but it's not like Scorpius and Livia actually  _live_  there most of the time. It's for Muggle business stuff. He's spent a ridiculous amount of time there over the last year or so. I knew Hermione shouldn't have got him that book on Muggle aircraft, she's just encouraging his weird midlife crisis Muggle-appreciation thing. He was so much more predictable at school, I swear. 'Cause, seriously, what is so damn special about Muggle Kent?

Midnight fireworks will be happening soon, so I'd better join all the rest of the family. It's just a sea of red hair at the moment and I can barely tell one apart from the other. Beginning to think Malfoy has a point.

Wish Hugo was here to see the fireworks. Stupid Hufflepuff.

What I  _don't_  approve of is how bloody cold it is tonight! It's the middle of winter – why do we need to be  _outside_  to watch the fireworks?

Ginny refused to make any meals, so I guess she still thinks she's turning into Mum.

Nothing else to report.

_Later_

Fireworks were nice, but I'm tired and I want to go to bed instead of hanging around at the party downstairs.

…This is what it's like to be old, I guess. I don't like feeling old. Better brush up on the modern slang again. Good thing James and Lily are still here – I can listen in on their conversations before they go.

* * *

  
  
**Chapter 7: article excerpts from the Daily Prophet**

_3.01.22_

 

  
Special Evening   _Prophet  _ Breaking News Report 

**HARRY POTTER FIGHTING FOR HIS LIFE!**

Head Auror Harry Potter is in a coma and fighting for his life.

Potter's family have been keeping vigil at his bedside at St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

Initial reports reveal that Potter was attacked while re-examining the scene of the Gringotts break-in. According to witnesses and high sources in the Ministry, Potter went without a backup team to Diagon Alley. Reports are inconsistent, but witnesses claim they saw Potter follow an unidentified man into Gringotts Wizarding Bank.

"It was horrible, just horrible," said Seraphina Smith, a witness to the incident. "There was loud crash and everyone on the street looked up and we just saw him flying from the top window and falling to the ground – I thought he'd died, there was so much blood!"

The full extent of Potter's injuries is not yet known, nor is the truth of what occurred on the top floor of the Gringotts building.

Aurors Ronald Weasley and Draco Malfoy, also witnesses, were first on the scene.

A statement released by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement said: "Sadly the reports are true that Harry Potter is badly injured and in a coma. We are all hoping and praying that he will pull through."

Potter's wife, Ginevra Potter (nee Weasley), could not be reached for comment, nor could their children.

If anyone has information on the attack on Harry Potter, please contact the Department of Magical Law Enforcement immediately. (Full report page 2, column 1)

* * *

_4.01.22_

 

**RONALD WEASLEY NAMED ACTING HEAD AUROR**

Immediately following the attack and incapacitation of Harry Potter yesterday, Ronald Weasley, close friend and fellow Auror of Potter, was appointed as the Acting Head Auror.

The magical community is still in shock over the attack.

Ronald Weasley released an official statement today: "[The Aurors] don't know if the attack on Harry [Potter] is related to the Gringotts break-in, but as far as we can tell there is no relation. All investigations are resuming and we're going to do everything we can to find out who attacked him."

Harry Potter has shown no signs of recovery yet. (Full report page 2, column 2)

* * *

_6.01.22_

 

**WEASLEY STEPS DOWN; NEW ACTING HEAD AUROR APPOINTED**

All investigations into the attack on Harry Potter three days ago have been temporarily halted during a minor reshuffle of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Acting Head Auror Ronald Weasley was asked to stand down from the assumed position. Auror Malcolm Baddock was appointed Acting Head Auror instead.

Minister Gilbert released a statement around midday: "I simply don't find it appropriate that Auror Weasley be the one to be the Acting Head Auror. It's well known that he and Harry Potter are very close, so Weasley would be understandably affected by Potter's accident. I have asked Weasley to step down as Acting Head Auror and take a few weeks' leave to recover."

High sources in the Ministry say that Auror Weasley stepped down on mutual terms, but he could not be reached for comment.

Auror Baddock held a press conference shortly after the Minister's statement was released, where he stressed that the investigations into the attack on Harry Potter would resume as soon as the minor reshuffle settled. His first action as Acting Head Auror was to dismiss 5 per cent of all Auror staff.

Draco Malfoy, philanthropist and the only Non-magical crimes Auror, was among those dismissed early this morning. The dismissal has been met with negative response from the magical community.

Baddock explained the dismissal: "The truth of the matter is, the Non-magical crimes department was ultimately unnecessary and is an unfortunate liability to the Ministry. We regret the dismissal but thank Lord Malfoy for his work and dedication over the past couple of years."

Draco Malfoy could also not be reached for comment.

* * *

  
  
**Chapter 8: from the actually-sort-of-necessary journal of Ronald Weasley VI**

_3.01.22_

…shit.

So.

I don't know where to start. It's late now, and we're all tired and in St Mungo's. Healers won't let us in to see Harry yet. Well, I say 'us', I mean me and Hermione and Malfoy. Ginny's in with him. Nothing we can really do except wait around for more news to come out. Ginny was holding up okay, or pretending to. She sent the kids to Mum and Dad so the press doesn't get hold of them.

What the hell was he  _doing_  in Gringotts, anyway? Who was he chasing?

Malfoy's here, too, but he's busy writing in his own diary. Journal. Whatever. Probably writing an epic trilogy about what happened. (With a Muggle pen, no less.) Guess I'd better write it down as well, but  _he_  can put in all the flowery descriptions and shit.

Right. So. I was at the Ministry pretending to do work, and I must've been really bored because I sent a letter to Malfoy and asked if he wanted to meet up in Diagon Alley for ice cream. I'm a regular at Fortescue's now, by the way. They give me free ice cream. Me and Malfoy and Hugo and Livia, when we have them with us. Especially during winter, 'cause I swear Malfoy and I are the only ones who go there during the season.

"It's fucking freezing," I said to Malfoy when he arrived, 'fashionably' late as usual.

"Man up, Weasley," he replied.

This would've been around 4:00 pm. It was already getting dark, so I shoved my hands into my pockets and said, "C'mon, in, my arse is going numb."

He was probably going to reply with something snarky, but before he could there was this massive crash of breaking glass from just across the street – Gringotts. We both turned to look and I saw a person falling and hitting the ground, glass shattering down around him. Everyone in the street was screaming and panicking and I remember just  _running_  like mad. Malfoy was with me, pushing through the crowds to get to the person who'd just fallen three storeys. Malfoy got to his side first, kneeling right in all the glass. His knees are shredded something awful now. The guy's already as pale as the fresh fallen snow, but when he saw who it was, he looked even worse.

" _Harry?"_

" _What?_ " I cried, and yep – it was Harry.

Don't think I'll ever forget the blood. I've seen him in bad shapes before – really bad shapes, after Quidditch matches and duels with Death Eaters. But this was different somehow, because I haven't seen him like this since the early days of being an Auror. Harry just doesn't go down like that, not anymore. He was lying there, all twisted and broken limbs – one of his arms was in a position it really  _shouldn't_  have been in – and there was blood and glass everywhere.

Malfoy and I glanced up at the broken top window and he said, "I'll stay here –  _go!_ "

I ran. All the way through Gringotts, wand drawn and looking like I was ready to murder someone. Actually, I  _was_  ready to murder someone. I got to the room on the top floor where Harry fell from, and there was… no-one there. Just a mess, like a duel had been going on.

So Harry's in a coma now and it's pretty bad. A lot of ribs cracked, limbs broken, really bad internal bleeding, and he was hit by an unidentified spell too – that was probably what blew him out of the building. Healers don't know if or when he'll wake up.

So that's… hard. I'm not sure what to do, actually.

Gringotts top floor is a crime scene now, and I'm here instead of helping with the investigation. I'm keeping up to date, though. Auror Rowena Carter, a newbie at the Ministry (nice girl), took some initial witness reports – apparently Harry was chasing someone through Gringotts. Unidentified man. No name, no specific description. Just tall and brown-haired.

Great.

_Later_

Most of the family's been by tonight, to see if there's been any progress. Bill and Fleur came by and dropped off flowers, which was nice but kind of impractical. George dropped off some food that Mum made and told us Al and Lily and James are doing okay, but they're really scared for Harry.

Percy came by, too. By then Hermione had fallen asleep and Malfoy had left to be with his kids. Ginny was still in with Harry (no word from the Healers yet), so Percy sat next to me and said, "You doing all right, Ron?"

I told him the truth. "Not really, no. But thanks for asking, that's really swell of you."

I sounded bitter, but Percy just sighed. "He'll be fine."

"How do you know that?" I demanded. "Maybe he won't be!"

"Easy, Ron –"

"Because  _that'll_  just be the icing on the cake, won't it! I mean,  _fucking hell_ , what else can go wrong right now? Harry almost died!" And then I started crying. In a very manly way. Manly men's tears.

And then Percy hugged me.

Don't think he's hugged me since I was, like, four years old or something. It was nice, y'know? I sobbed into his shoulder a bit and made a mess, and he patted my back. "Listen to me," he said. "Harry will be fine."

"Says  _who?_ "

"Says me."

I snorted and shook my head. "I just want things to be  _okay_  again."

"It will be. In the end."

"Hah. And when exactly is the 'end'?"

"2046, I think."

It's always a sort of pleasant shock to hear Percy make a joke. I laughed (very snottily, which was fifty shades of attractive – good thing Malfoy wasn't there to see) and wiped my nose on the back of my sleeve, just because I could. Percy just patted my back some more and stood up, and looked at me kinda sadly.

"You'll be okay, Ron."

"Yeah, I will," I sighed, and saluted him. "Thanks, Perce."

And then he left and I wrote this, and everything seems to be consistent. No weird gaps or anything. Yay memory.

* * *

_4.01.22_

So by fortunate association, I've been named Acting Head Auror by the department. Because, you know, Harry Potter's best friend, experienced Auror, etc.

Still, it was… unexpected.

This shit is happening too fast to keep up with. I don't have  _time_  to write everything down. I might just keep Pensieve entries and get Malfoy or Hermione or Ginny to look over them for inconsistencies.

So today. Yeah. I was told while waiting in the hospital, and of course I hadn't slept at all or even changed clothes or  _anything_ , but I was told to make an official statement anyway. This was all this morning – it's night now and I'm looking at the rush print of the  _Prophet_. Awful picture of me. And I totally bungled my statement, but they made me sound smarter in the paper. Which was nice of them, but I noticed that they didn't call me Lord Weasley.

I went through Harry's office today, to find… actually, I don't know what I went there to find. His office is such a mess it's a wonder he knows what's going on day to day. I was hoping to find some proper indication of who he was following – it can't have been Baddock because none of the witnesses said the guy matched Baddock's description. Harry's got a fair few cases going on at the moment, but nothing of major importance. I figured that was because he was keeping the real stuff away from everyone else, so I went off in search of his journal but I couldn't find it.

What if it's been nicked?

* * *

_6.01.22_

Fucking Baddock.

_Later_

No, seriously,  _fucking Baddock._  Five percent of Aurors? I know it's not much but – _holy shit_. And not just the newbies or the idiots – the  _good_ ones. I saw Rowena Carter crying just now. She walked past my office carrying her belongings in a box.

And as for me, well, my Acting Head Auror position must be, like, the shortest time anyone has  _ever_  held it. I wasn't officially fired – I've just been told to go on leave by Gilbert and that they didn't find it 'appropriate' for me to have the position and that I've been 'affected' by what's happened to Harry. It's as if I'm  _not_  an Auror with over twenty years of experience. And then she made  _Baddock_  the Acting Head Auror.

Not suspicious at all.

Right. I'm angry – bloody furious, actually – but something really sour is going on here and Baddock just got rid of the people best equipped to deal with the situation. Like me. And Malfoy. "Ultimately unnecessary and is an unfortunate liability" my arse. Malfoy is  _useful._  Not that I'd admit it properly to his face, but he  _is_.

I found him packing up his office around midday, a while after I heard the news. He really looked miserable, you know? Fair enough, I guess. I felt pretty miserable too.

"So, now what?" I said when I went into his office. Malfoy shrugged and held up a box of his stuff

"I'll be taking this all to my private practice."

"You have a private practice? Since when?"

"Today. I bought a place in Diagon Alley."

Of course he did. I rolled my eyes and picked up a box. "Let me help you set up. And then tomorrow we can talk about… stuff. And then get drunk in Hogsmeade."

"As usual, it is another one of your intricately detailed and life-changing plans. I'm very impressed."

So I helped him set up (kinda – it mostly ended up dumping various boxes around the room and hanging up a couple of pictures of his kids – I tossed the baseball bat behind his desk) and we talked a bit then made plans to meet up at Hogsmeade tomorrow. Now neither of us can keep an eye on Baddock.

_Later again_

"What are you going to do, Ron?"

Bless Hermione. I spoke to her all evening – she's gone to bed now but I have to record this. Can't believe these journals turned out to be good, after all. Good record of everything.

I shrugged and said, "I dunno."

She didn't look scared – just worried and tired. We've all been tired. This mess is just… too much of a mess. And with Harry in a coma and everything else that's been happening, I don't know how any of us can keep up. Hermione took my hand and said, "I think you should keep your eyes open and stay at the ready. And – now that I'm a qualified lawyer, I can walk around the Ministry without anyone wondering what I'm doing there."

Merlin, I love that woman. Also she's dangerous as hell with her wand, so if shit hits the fan (even more), I'm covered.

* * *

_7.01.22_

I'm a bit drunk, but the autocorrect spelling thingy on my quill should be working. Yep, look at that, no mistakes. I love my wife.

Got drunk in Hogsmeade with Malfoy earlier. After we talked about important stuff, like Harry and Baddock and my memory loss. Definitely all related. Malfoy feels bad.

"It's my fault," he said. "That conversation you overheard – it must have been about me digging into the Jackson Mills case. Baddock thought you would tell me, so he wiped your memory – and Potter kept a tail on him, and someone attacked him when he got to close." He took a drink. "Pantera was right. I am a meddling little fuck."

"You never could keep your nose out of other peoples' business," I muttered. "What does Baddock have to do with the Mills case?"

"Remember I told you that Baddock was the first to find Mills' body?"

Vaguely.

"Well, I think… I think Baddock might have stolen something off him. That experimental potion. And… I don't know. But it was really valuable, that potion. You could get very wealthy if you sold it to the highest bidder."

"Huh." Makes sense. I guess Harry  _did_  know what he was doing when he made Malfoy the Non-magical crimes Auror. Mind, it didn't really take a genius to work it out, so everything in perspective.

"Trouble is," Malfoy continued, "we can't keep an eye on Baddock anymore."

But we didn't talk about it, though, because we'd both finished our first drinks by that stage and it's hard to talk serious business when you're drowning sorrows. Talk mostly turned into snarky jabs about school, which turned to laments about his short-lived time as an Auror.

"Fucking Baddock."

"Fucking Baddock," Malfoy agreed solemnly, and clinked his glass against mine. "He never  _used_  to be such a twat. I liked him at school…"

"Yeah, well, you used to be a twat and I didn't like you at school."

"You  _still_  think I'm a twat and you  _still_  don't like me."

"Tha's nottrue!" I said, but I definitely slurred that. "You're just a  _bit_  of a twat. An' I like you when you're not posing for the  _Prophet_ , Lord Draco Malfoy –"

" _That_  is for Livia's benefit," he declared with conviction, then drained his glass and stood up. "All right. I should get my kids and cart them back up to Kent."

"Why Kent?" I demanded.

"Kent because of… reasons…" Malfoy said slowly, and we did this awkward hug/manly fist-pump/salute thing that ended up with us being a bit too close to each other than was absolutely necessary. We helped each other out of the Three Broomsticks – staggered out, actually – and outside he tripped over and fell down into the snow.

I fell down with him and I hope I bruised the idiot.

After I helped him back up, he buggered off to Muggle Kent. I think he mentioned he left his kids with his mother, so he's lucky because he gets to sensibly sleep off his hangover, whereas I will have to hide it from my family.

So it's late now and I'm hiding on the couch downstairs so Hermione doesn't smell the alcohol on me.

Gonna have a bad headache tomorrow.

* * *

  
  
**Chapter 9: correspondence II**

_8.01.22_

Weasley –

I can't remember much of what happened last night, and I think it should stay that way. I hope your hangover is awful.

Now that I'm no longer an Auror I don't have the authority to continue investigating the Jackson Mills case. But you do have authority even though you're on forced leave. It'll keep you busy, if nothing else.

The rundown of the case is this: Jackson Mills was mugged and killed on his way home from the 2018 Annual Westminster Potions Conference. We thought he was part of Pantera's serial killings, but he wasn't. I dug deeper and I found out that Mills was in the same post-Hogwarts Potions course as Katerina Kingson. At the 2018 Conference, Mills showcased a prototype of a Polyjuice potion he was working on – apparently one that changes a person's appearance for up to 48 hours. Pantera closed the case and classified it as a theft/mugging because the only thing found on Mills' body was an empty wallet.

What I think happened – I'm pretty sure we discussed this last night but I can't remember for certain – is that Baddock took the Polyjuice prototype off Mills' body, and the conversation you overheard was about me digging into the case and him wanting to sell the potion. Baddock thinks he got you, me, and Harry out of the way, but he doesn't know that we're still onto him.

How's Potter doing? Are the rest of you holding up all right?

Regards,

D. Malfoy

* * *

_9.01.22_

Malfoy –

My hangover is awful, and I hope I bruised you black and blue.

Thanks for the rundown. It makes sense, I guess – but who is Baddock going to sell the potion to? Hermione's got clearance to waltz around the Ministry without suspicion now, so she'll be keeping an eye on Baddock as best she can while we're out of commission.

Harry's still critical, but stable for now. Rest of the family is doing okay. It'll be easier when the kids go back to Hogwarts.

How's the private practice going? Scoring any good cases?

R. Weasley

* * *

_10.01.22_

**RETURNED TO SENDER**

FORWARD TO:  
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Hugo Weasley  
Weasley House, St. Andrew's Road  
Avon, Portbury  
Somerset BS24 9AY, UK

Dear Hugo,

Things aren't very good at the moment. Well, I mean, classes are going well, but… everyone is worried about Harry. Albus and James and Lily are upset, but Scorpius is doing everything he can to keep Al's spirits up.

My Dad was fired by the new Head Auror. It was your Dad for a little while, but then the Minister for Magic told him to step down. Are you keeping up with the news, wherever you are? Dad won't tell me the details of his case but I know he's worried about it. I don't think I can put too much in this letter, though – I never know where the letters go and how it keeps coming back to me.

Everyone misses you, Hugo. Please come back soon.

Love,

Livia

* * *

_11.01.22_

Weasley –

The practice is doing all right so far. A lot of my old clients from cases I had as an Auror are employing my services (even though my office is far from constructed yet). I seem to be saddled with infidelity cases now, though. Pantera wasn't lying when he said he ruined marriages for a living. It's exceptionally unnerving, following husbands to hotel rooms.

Keep me posted. If Potter's condition changes, let me know. I'll be in Kent for a while.

D. Malfoy

* * *

_12.01.22_

Hi Mum,

I am in serious need of your cooking right now. And some company. Ron and Hermione are busy and George and Percy have been amazing, but… please come to St Mungo's, if you're free? I don't know if Harry can hear anything, but if he can I think he'd like to hear your voice right now.

Love,

Ginny

PS: I'm sorry I sent back your cookbooks.

PPS: I made macaroons but they didn't turn out nicely like yours do.

* * *

_13.01.22_

Miss Livia Malfoy  
Ravenswood College, Old Church Road  
Pembury, Tunbridge Wells  
Kent TN2 4AX, England

Dear Livia Malfoy,

I hope you don't mind that I've taken the liberty of replying to your most recent letter to Hugo. I also hope I don't come across as terribly creepy.

My name is Samael Glyde, and I'm a friend of Hugo's. He's been gone all year, but according to the school stories he and the rest of Hufflepuff will be back at the end of the year. He's told me all about you, though. All last year – all he did was talk about you. I feel as though I know you quite well, even though we've never met.

Regards,

Samael

* * *

_15.01.22_

Weasley,

Livia just received a letter from a kid called Samael Glyde. He claims he's a friend of Hugo's. Is this true? Because if it is, then I'm telling you right now that your child is making friends with some seriously questionable people. You do know his grandparents were Death Eater supporters?

D. Malfoy

* * *

_16.01.22_

Dear Draco,

I'm looking over the details of your dismissal from the Aurors, and I don't think it was fair at all! Fair as in legally fair, not fair in the moral sense. (Although I do happen to also think it was unfair in the moral sense.) I'm going through some of the regulation books now. I'll let you know if anything turns up. I've been keeping an eye on Baddock as best I can, but there's nothing to report. I think he's dropped his guard now that you and Ron are out of the picture.

Harry's condition is still the same. He's not critical anymore, which is a relief, but we don't know when he'll wake up or what the damage might be, if there is any.

Take care, and send my regards to Livia and Scorpius.

Sincerely,

Hermione

* * *

_16.01.22_

Malfoy –

Yeah, Sam's a kind-of-friend of Hugo's, 'cause they mostly only work on bits of homework together. Not this year, obviously, because Hufflepuff's gone to Merlin knows where. Glyde's in Slytherin, but we've had him over at least once – Hermione felt sorry for him. As for Hugo making friends with some seriously questionable people… Malfoy, look, I  _could_  say something? But I'm a nice person (and Hermione's looking over my shoulder and scowling), so I won't.

Glyde's parents died in the FD neutralisation about thirteen years ago, just after he was born. He's been in foster homes ever since. Take it easy on the kid, he's probably just lonely now that Hugo's pulled a vanishing act. Just add it to that list of things wrong with your life and wax poetic about it to get the melodrama out of your system.

R. Weasley

* * *

_17.01.22_

Weasley,

Firstly: I'd rather meet this Sam kid first before I let Livia correspond with him.

Secondly: I'm  _so close_  to writing out a list of things that are wrong with  _you_. And I almost did, until I realised it might be easier to write a list of things that  _aren't_  wrong with you, because that'd be a very, very short list and a better use of my time.

Thirdly: I'm going to steal your diary one day, Weasley. Someday soon. And you'll be sorry.

(Hello, Granger, thank you for your letter; I'll write you a proper response soon.) I'll be quiet for a few days – I have an unfaithful husband to follow around.

D. Malfoy

* * *

_19.01.22_

_Voicemail left on Draco Malfoy's phone  
7:43 p.m._

Malfoy, it's Ron. I just got a Patronus from Hermione – she overheard Baddock talking about breaking into your office! Tonight! Do you have important things in there?

* * *

_19.01.22_

_Voicemail left on Draco Malfoy's phone  
7:57 p.m._

MALFOY YOU STUPID GIT

( _Ron, you don't have to shout –!_ )

ARE YOU IN MUGGLE KENT AGAIN? WHAT THE HELL IS SO SPECIAL ABOUT MUGGLE KENT?  _I CAN'T SEND YOU PATRONOUS OR A HOWLER TO MUGGLE KENT, YOU LITTLE SHIT. ANSWER YOUR DAMN PHONE. THAT'S WHAT IT'S FOR, ISN'T IT? YOUR MUGGLE STUFF?_

* * *

_19.01.22_

_Voicemail left on Draco Malfoy's phone  
8:21 p.m._

Right, that's it, I'm breaking into your house. Don't think I don't know about your obsessive planner diary thing! I know where you keep it! I'll find you and tell you _myself._

( _That's an invasion of privacy, Ron –_ )

( _Well this is kind of important, Hermione!_ ) If you're in Muggle Kent I'm going to be _so annoyed, Malfoy._

* * *

  
  
**Chapter 10: from the actually-sort-of-necessary journal of Ronald Weasley VII (with an entry by Draco Malfoy)**

_20.01.22_

I am  _awesome_.

Oh, and Harry woke up today. Well, sort of. He opened his eyes and gurgled a bit and asked for water then went back to sleep, but he'll be fine. Also I'm getting  _way_  ahead of myself and I'm really high on painkillers, so I'm probably not going to make much sense. Got nothing else to do except write at the moment – stuck in a hospital bed in St Mungo's. Might as well recount. That's what Malfoy does, yeah? He's been writing non-stop for the past few hours. Probably about how awesome I am. Fuck Yeah, Lord Ronald Weasley.

So, yesterday? I didn't have anything to do but sulk that day, being out of the job and all – Hermione informed me that it was 'unbecoming' of me, but frankly I thought was well within my right to sulk – so I waited around while she did all the work tagging Baddock at the Ministry.

Have I said before how much I love my wife? If I'm awesome, she's brilliant – it's always been that way. Dunno how I'd ever have survived without her my whole life. Hermione sent a Patronus message to me – around about 7:30 or something – to say that she overheard Baddock planning to break into Malfoy's office. The new private practice one, where he probably keeps all his information. And if Baddock found Malfoy's files and/or journal, then he'd know we were still onto him, and that would be bad.

So I called Malfoy's mobile phone (he has one now, for Livia) but I couldn't get into contact with him, the little shit had it turned off. I went to the Manor. It's not considered "breaking and entering" if you know how to disable the wards, right? Grabbed his planner and found out where he was for the evening.

I'd like to write more but the painkillers are kicking in and I just hallucinated an elephant in the room. Also my arm is in a sling and I'm smudging the ink everywhere.

_Later_

Actually, idea! I'm too tired to write down the rest. So – Malfoy's here now with me and I'm turning the rest of the story over to him. I'm sure he'll be a lot more eloquent than me, anyway. And his handwriting is actually legible, that's kind of important.

* * *

_Entry by Draco Malfoy_

_January 20, 2022_

Well, I'm not entirely certain what the above entry says because the handwriting is reprehensibly appalling. I'm assuming, however, that it is some sort of permission to write in this journal on Weasley's behalf – considering he just shoved it at me and promptly fell asleep. He's extremely proud – telling as many people who will listen. I feel sorry for the Healers.

But credit where credit is due: Weasley was brilliant. If it weren't for him… well, I guess we'd still have a Minister for Magic, but really, he was just doing his job.

I'm not completely sure why Weasley wants  _me_  to recount. I doubt he knew what he was asking me to do, considering he was quite high on pain medication, and I'm certain he'll regret this when he wakes up. I think he just wants the satisfaction of making me write this down in his journal.

The joke's on him, because I did warn him I'd take revenge and read his journal one day. Muhahahaha.

_Later_

Well, that was…  _highly_  entertaining. Very enlightening stuff.

Without further ado:

I was in Muggle Kent. On a date. Coming back from a restaurant with Marian.

Shut up, Weasley, I can hear you cackling.

We've… more or less been dating for the past two years, now, and I may or may not have neglected to tell those outside of my immediate family. It wasn't so much a conscious decision on my part as it was just things getting away from me. The longer I held out on telling Marian about magic and Weasley and company about Marian, the harder it was to  _start_  to tell someone.

Anyway. The evening was all in all quite lovely. Marian and I were just walking together – barely a hundred metres away from the restaurant. Scorpius and Livia were both at their respective schools at this point – Scorpius safe at Hogwarts, Livia at Ravenswood. Good thing it was a very quiet evening and no-one around us, because Weasley, the genius that he is, Apparated right in front of us.

 _Right_  in front of us.

In Muggle Kent.

As one does.

" _Malfoy!_ "

Marian shrieked and stumbled backwards, and I only  _just_  caught her. " _Fuck_ , Weasley!" I shouted, but Weasley just pointed at me, looking crazed.

" _Why aren't you answering your phone?_ "

"What the hell are you  _doing_  here?"

" _Where did he come from_ ," Marian hissed, grabbing my collar. I had to pry her hand away because she also grabbed my tie and I felt myself choking a bit.

"Phone is – turned off –"

"Draco, what the  _hell_  is going on?"

"Why is your phone turned off?!"

" _Where did he come from, Draco?_ "

It's hard to concentrate when you have two people yelling different conversations at you.

"I've been trying to reach you for ages, and we have to go to your office now!"

"Who is he? Do you  _know_  him?"

"How did you find me?"

" _Where did he come from?_ "

It wasn't the most ideal circumstance to explain to my Muggle girlfriend that my best friend was a wizard and had Apparated, nothing to worry about. I told her I'd "explain later" – "You'll explain  _now_ , Draco Malfoy!" – and focused on Weasley, because he wouldn't have Apparated there without due cause. I hoped.

"Hermione overheard Baddock talking about breaking into your office!"

I paled, because even though I keep my office very tightly warded, Baddock was an Auror and he knew how to get around even the tightest of wards. And there was a lot of important information incriminating him in theft and the attack on Potter in that office.

"You have to come with me  _now_."

"How did you know where I was?" I demanded, because clearly that was the more important topic.

Weasley waved his hand. "I broke into the Manor and found your planner."

"You  _what?_ "

"Your Manor? Draco, you live in Wiltshire! This is  _Kent_! How did he –"

"Calm down, Malfoy –"

"Marian, I promise I'll tell you –"

"Malfoy, we have to go  _now_!"

He Disapparated, presumably to my office, but this time Marian didn't shriek. She just stared at the spot he'd been at and blinked, then faced me. "What in  _God's_  name –"

"Marian, I need you to hold onto my arm. Close your eyes, and whatever you do, don't let go."

" _Why_?"

"Please, Marian!"

She gave me a look sour enough to curdle milk, but did as I asked, and I Disapparated. I've never Apparated before with a Muggle, and I was terrified for a moment that it wouldn't work – but it did. We appeared in my office, which was still under construction, and Marian staggered away from me, gasping for air and looking around wildly. "We – we moved. How did we –"

"What, did she hit her head or something?" Weasley demanded, but I was holding her and trying to calm her down.

"Magic," I said. "It was magic. Apparition. Just – just please don't freak out. It's okay, honestly –"

"What do you mean  _magic?_ "

Weasley froze and stared at Marian. "…is she a Muggle?"

I ignored Weasley and kept on trying to keep Marian from panicking.  _Trying_ being the keyword there.

" _There's no such thing as magic, Draco –!"_

" _Why are you with a Muggle, Malfoy?"_

She rounded him. "What did you call me?"

"Marian, calm down, it just means a non-magical person –"

I didn't really get the chance to calm her down, because I felt the wards around my office get yanked away by some pretty strong magic. Weasley and I glanced at each other – he said, "Baddock," and I pushed Marian behind the desk and told her to stay down. She still seemed a bit stunned at that point and didn't make a noise, but before I could pull my wand out and join Weasley, Baddock – look, he was fast. Really fast. Weasley fired off a Stunner but Baddock blocked it and flung us to the other side of the room. In my defence, I hit my head pretty badly against the wall, so I was a bit dazed. Baddock Accio'd our wands away, and stepped up to us and sighed.

"You had to keep on meddling, didn't you."

"It's what I do," I said with a shrug. "Baddock, what happened to you? You used to be –"

"Oh, shut up, Malfoy."

It's a really good thing Weasley and I are good at poker faces. Neither of us made a sound as Marian stood up from behind my desk, holding my baseball bat tightly in her hands, and crept up behind Baddock.

"I really didn't want more blood on my hands, gentlemen, but –"

 _Crack_ , right across the back of his head. He dropped his wand and staggered off to the side, clutching his head, and swivelled around to face her. "Who the  _hell_  are you?"

"A 'Moggle'," Marian said, "and I've just experienced the most confusing five minutes of my life, so I'd watch your mouth if I were you."

Baddock laughed. "Oh, great, a Muggle. And what  _exactly_  do you think you can –"

"Don't –"  _smack_  "– bloody –"  _smack_  "– tempt –"  _smack_  "– me!"

Baddock slumped over, and Marian brought the bat down on his leg. There was a satisfying crunching sound. We stared at her, and she swung the bat over her shoulder, blew her hair out of her face, and panted, "Magic, Draco?  _Magic_?"

I retrieved my wand. Weasley kicked Baddock in the crotch – ever classy – for good measure.

"You get him back to your place," I said, "we'll follow."

Weasley just stared at me, then did as I told him. I held out my arm to Marian. She shook her head and backed away, still holding the bat. "No," she said, "I am  _not_ doing that – that – disappearing moving-thing again!"

I gripped my hair in frustration. "How about the fireplace?"

" _The fireplace?_ "

It… took a fair amount of convincing. Finally I managed to convince her to come through the Floo with me, but she insisted on taking the bat with her. Fair enough, I guess. We came through into Granger's lounge room, but because Marian had never travelled by Floo before, we didn't exit gracefully and ash went all over Granger's carpet.

"Draco, there you are! And –" Hermione blinked at Marian. "Who is…?"

Marian staggered away from me. "I just went through a fireplace."

"You might want to sit down," I suggested weakly.

"Why, so the couch can transport me to another part of the country?" she snapped, then pressed her hand to her mouth. "I think I'm going to be sick."

That was… probably my fault. It's not a great idea to force someone to Apparate and then Floo all within ten minutes of the other. Let alone a Muggle. Poor Marian. She's forgiven me.

I think.

I directed her to the bathroom, and I did offer to with her but she said no in not so many words. So I waited with Granger, Weasley, and Ginny – who'd joined the party – while Marian ran to the bathroom.

"Is she a Muggle?" Hermione asked quietly, but Weasley, in all his obnoxious glory, burst in and shouted, " _You're with a Muggle!_ "

"Yes, Weasley, I am with a Muggle!" I shouted back at him, then turned to Granger and said more calmly, "Yes, she's a Muggle, and your dolt of a husband here just exposed her to magic."

She looked sympathetic. "I'd better fix her some tea, then."

"I think she's going to need something stronger than tea, Hermione," said Ginny. "I'll get the vodka."

Baddock groaned pathetically on the floor.

By the time Marian came back, Weasley had grabbed some Veritaserum and Granger and Ginny brought their respective drinks. Marian didn't bother with either of them, and rounded on me. " _Magic!_  You're a – a wizard? Is this a joke?"

"It's real, Miss," Granger supplied, and Marian pressed her fingers to her temples.

"It's real, she says. I'd ask what you slipped into my drink, Draco, but –" She shook her head. "Magic.  _Magic_. I don't – this is absurd. I always knew there was something different about you, but – you didn't think about maybe  _telling_  me about this insignificant detail? What, did it slip your mind for a  _whole two years_ or something?"

"I was going to tell you!"

"When, in another two years? I knew you were hiding something, Draco, but I didn't think you were being  _serious_ when you said you came from the nineteenth century!" Marian breathed deeply. "I need some water," she muttered, and picked up the glass sitting closest to her.

"That's vodka," Ginny quickly warned, but Marian had already downed the glass.

"Nngh," she gagged, grimacing, and put the glass down. "Yes, I know that now. I'm just going to… sit down. Assuming the couch doesn't transport me to Russia or something."

She took the tea and thanked Granger for it – "I'm Marian, by the way. I suppose you're one of Draco's friends that he's kept hidden for the last two years." – and went to the couch and sat down, and ignored me for the next half an hour.

I have a lot of explaining to do.

Ginny kicked Baddock awake, and Weasley grabbed his jaw. "I'd prefer to do this at the Ministry, but – you know, we've been fired and all. This won't be legal."

"Actually," Granger said with a grin, "I've been looking over the details. It was an unlawful dismissal! Both you and Draco. You're still the legal Acting Head Auror and Draco is still the Non-magical crimes Auror."

Bless Granger.

"Which means I  _can_  do this legally, then!" Weasley crowed, and forced Baddock's mouth open to tip three drops of Veritaserum down his throat.

"What is your name?"

"Jackson Mills," Baddock said, and I shared a glance with Weasley.

"State your name, please," Granger tried instead.

"Jackson Mills," Baddock insisted.

"Uh. Well, Mr Mills, I'm sorry to be one to break this to you, but you died in May of 2018," I said.

"Malcolm Baddock is in the grave marked as Jackson Mills." Baddock – Mills – sneered. "Turns out you can't showcase a prototype Polyjuice potion that lasts for two days without the Ministry breathing down the back of your neck."

"Tell us what happened," Weasley snapped.

"Baddock stopped me after the conference. Said I needed to come with him and that I needed to turn my potion over to the Ministry." Mills grimaced with Baddock's features. "I resisted, he tried to stun me – so I punched him in the head, and he went down. I didn't realise he was dead until I saw the blood coming out of his ear."

"So you…" I prompted, and he kept talking. Bad Guys, you know? They can't help but explain it all. It makes my job a lot easier.

"I swapped our clothes and Polyjuiced him. It still works when you're dead, you know. Body has to be warm, though. I took a large sample of his hair – it'll keep me going for the next year at least."

Weasley narrowed his eyes. "How did you know to turn it over to Pantera?"

"I looked through Baddock's notes. Pantera was useless – I knew I could get away with it. I've spent  _years_  in this body. But then you, Malfoy – sticking your nose into places it doesn't belong –"

I'd heard the spiel before. I told him to get on with it.

"I knew you'd find the connection to Kat."

"Cat?" Weasley repeated.

Mills sneered. "Katerina Kingson. Dumb bitch, getting herself mixed up with FD. It was a good thing I 'died' that night – a connection with her would have brought the Aurors breathing down my neck even more."

"Not cat," Weasley groaned. " _Katerina_  Kingson."

"So you – you thought Weasley overheard you talking about my investigations into the case," I said, "and you thought he would tell me. You wiped his memory and thought that was that. Yes or no."

"Yes," Mills gritted out.

"But then you realised Potter was trailing you. Here's what I think happened – you missed a Polyjuice drink and you went back to your normal body. Potter chased you to Gringotts. Yes or no."

"Yes."

"You attacked him."

"That fall should have fucking killed him."

"Why did Gilbert make you the Acting Head Auror and fire me?" I demanded.

"So I could sell the potion to her and get you two arses out of the way!"

That was all we needed to know. Weasley knocked him out with a Stunner.

"We'd better take him to the Ministry," Granger said. "And perhaps speak to Gilbert."

"I was thinking more along the lines of  _arresting_  Gilbert, but okay," Weasley agreed.

"Sorry, Ministry?" Marian finally said, standing up from the couch and coming back over. Weasley jumped – I think he'd forgotten she was there; either that, or the baseball bat in her hands was putting him on edge – and Marian stared around at us. "Gilbert? I don't know these people."

I could tell Granger was about to launch into an explanation about the Wizarding World political structure, but once she gets started on that it is very difficult to get her to stop. I cut across her and said to Marian, "It's a long story. I promise I'll tell you tomorrow."

And I have – this morning, while we were hanging around St Mungo's.

"You'll tell me this instant, Draco Malfoy!"

"This instant we kind of have to arrest the Minister for Magic for corruption and abuse of power –"

"Minister for Magic. Of course." She shook her head. "What's an Or-Or?"

"Auror," Ginny corrected. "It's like your police, except for wizards and witches."

Marian stared at her into silence.

I winced and spoke up again. "Okay. So… is there anything else that we should know before we go to the Ministry?"

I looked around at the four of them. Ginny and Hermione shook their heads – so did Weasley – but Marian cleared her throat. "I'm pregnant."

Forgive me if I don't write down my emotions about that moment in your diary, Weasley. I've already waxed poetic about it in my journal, so all you need to know is that if it turns out to be a boy, we're not naming him after you. I stared at her and felt a bit lightheaded for a moment, then sucked in a tight breath. "I could have timed this evening a bit better, then," I said.

She nodded. "Just a bit, yeah."

Ginny agreed to stay with Marian and fill her in on some details. It wouldn't have been safe for her to come with us to the Ministry, anyway – a Muggle clutching a baseball bat looking like she was ready to hit everything in sight. But of course, as soon as we Apparated to the Ministry, Weasley couldn't contain his astonishment a second longer.

"A Muggle!" Weasley yelled. " _You're_  dating a  _Muggle_! And you  _knocked her up_?!"

I stopped and faced him. "Weasley," I said, "my daughter is non-magical and goes to a Muggle school. I  _own_  a house in Muggle Kent. My son is in Ravenclaw and is best friends with Rose and Albus. I have been the Non-magical crimes Auror for two years.  _Why is this coming as a surprise to you_?"

He shook his head. "Blimey, I don't know anymore. You can't do  _anything_ by halves. I swear to Merlin, it's one extreme or the other with you, isn't it?"

I groaned. "Can you judge me later? Please?"

"No, because I'll be rational later and that defeats the purpose," Weasley snapped. "So I'm judging you now."

…Fair enough.

"I think it's wonderful, Draco," Granger said. Small mercies. "And congratulations."

The news about Marian's pregnancy hadn't sunk in yet, but I said thanks anyway.

We were, of course, stopped at the entrance to the Ministry. It's very difficult to get into the Ministry these days – there are something like three identification stations before you even make it to the Department you want. But because I'd been 'fired' and Weasley was on forced leave, we were stopped at the entrance by the Aurors. To their credit, they did look apologetic when they said we couldn't come in without special clearance and they didn't arrest us when they saw Baddock floating along beside us unconscious. But Granger stepped forward and took over.

"Malcolm Baddock has been dead since 2018. The man posing as the Acting Head Auror is an imposter and a murderer, and even if he were not, Minister Gilbert's appointment of him in Ronald Weasley's rightful position was illegal. As far as the law is concerned, Ron Weasley is still Acting Head Auror, and Draco Malfoy is still an Auror – no special clearance needed." She smiled. "So if you'll excuse us, the Acting Head Auror is on his way to arrest the Minister for Magic for corruption and abuse of power."

Damn, Granger.

Needless to say, the Aurors happily came with us to arrest the Minister. She wasn't very popular anyway.

Now, Gilbert is strong. She was an Auror once herself before deciding she liked the power of politics better and the paycheque of the Minister. It wasn't enough, it seems – she was going to buy that Polyjuice potion of Baddock/Mills and probably sell it again herself for an even higher price. She has contacts not even Potter has (maybe) – she could have made a fortune. She's clever.

She also knew we were coming. We're digging out the corrupted Aurors now – there aren't many, thankfully, and Mills will give us the rest of the names with a bit of persuading. But someone tipped her off, so before we even reached her door, we tripped a hex.

Weasley almost got his head decapitated.

"WEASLEY!" I shouted, but he wouldn't get out of the way fast enough – so I tripped him by shooting a rope around his ankles. He crashed to the ground, Granger attacked the wards and hexes, and I crawled up next to Weasley to make sure I hadn't been too late to stop his head from getting whacked off. I hadn't been, and I was polite enough to not mention that even if he did lose his head it would have been an improvement.

"Thanks," he said, and cut through the ropes around his ankles.

"Don't mention it."

I helped him up, and Granger got us through Gilbert's tightly locked door. If anyone should be an Auror, it really ought to be her. "She's getting away!" she said, and she was right – Gilbert had jumped out of her window and was making a run for it.

Her window, mind, is a good four storeys high.

"Not on my watch," Weasley said, and jumped out of the window.

As you do.

Granger and I took the long way around.

Whatever happened down there, Weasley will have to write it his own lazy self. And preferably with a pen, because somehow between Hogwarts and now his skill with a quill and ink has become  _worse_. I don't know how that's possible, but it is. So when he's more awake, or when he wants to write it himself, Weasley will say exactly what he did to disarm Gilbert and wrap her up in rope and place an anti-Disapparation spell on her.

"Who da man!" he cried, lifting his arms up and doing some odd hand gesture when he saw me and Granger approach with a small army of Aurors. I grimaced and shook my head, and his grin faltered. "No?"

"No. Please never say that again."

He shrugged, and faced Gilbert. "Giulia Gilbert, you're under arrest."

Gilbert spluttered through her bleeding nose. "I never liked you, Weasley."

"Whatever. I didn't vote for you."

"You voted for Abshott?" I asked dubiously.

"Nah, I didn't vote at all."

"Ron!" Granger cried.

"What? I didn't like either of them!"

Granger shook her head in disapproval, then stepped up to Gilbert who was being foisted up by a couple of Aurors. "Minister Gilbert," she said, "I highly recommend you find yourself a legal representative."

"And just who do you think  _you_  are?" Gilbert snapped.

"Ronald Weasley's and Draco Malfoy's lawyer and the one who intends to press corruption charges against you, Minister." Granger smiled. "I look forward to seeing you in the courts."

I clapped Weasley on the shoulder.

"Ow," Weasley said, and looked down at his arm – which was bleeding very heavily and dripping down his hand and creating a small pool of blood on the ground. He swayed, now very pale, and I caught him on the way down.

"Weasley!"

"Huh," he said, losing blood by the second. "I didn't even notice."

He passed out like the drama queen he is, and we took him to St Mungo's to get patched up.

So that was yesterday. Lord Weasley is about to wake up, and I have to decide whether or not to make a copy of this diary for blackmailing purposes.

* * *

_21.01.22_

Malfoy, you little shit.

* * *

  
  
**Chapter 11: postscript**   
  
  


_15.02.22_

I've been slack with the journal, but that's okay, there's no need for it anymore. No-one has tried to wipe my memory. It's been a pretty successful month, all around! Hermione is, as always, brilliant; she's dug up charges against Gilbert I didn't even know existed, and she's having the time of her life.

Harry's made a full recovery and he's back as Head Auror. Personally, I thought I was doing a pretty awesome job on his behalf. I'm not opposed to him getting hurt on the job more often.

In other news, Malfoy's getting married to Marian and they've set a date sometime before she really starts to show. (I still can't believe he's actually marrying a Muggle. Even that's a bit extreme for just a midlife crisis. I can't believe  _she's_ marrying  _him_! He must've begged like there was no tomorrow.) So, yeah, I might not get to have the new Malfoy spawn named after me – pity, I reckon Ronald would be a great middle name – but at least I get to be the best man at his wedding! I'm not allowed to give the speech until they've checked it over first, though.

They just don't appreciate modern-day talk.

* * *

_18.07.22_

Wow, forgot I had this thing. Blimey.

Hufflepuff came back today. Just, poof, reappeared and no explanation about where they'd gone for the whole year, and Hugo still somehow managed to sit for his exams. Did really well, too. And he won't tell me or Hermione about where he went.

Freakin' Hufflepuff, man. Never going to diss that House again.

And now apparently James is the new History of Magic Professor. He just sat at the teacher's table one morning and no-one told him to go away. Geeze, if I'd known it was that easy…

* * *

_30.08.22_

I'm gonna kill Harry's kids.

I overheard Lily and James talking again. "Yo, Jazzo, mah man!"

"'Sup, Lilzizzle, gimme the buzz!"

"Dingo!"

Now I  _know_  they're just fucking with me. Okay, so, Rose might have told me they were messing with me a few weeks ago and Hugo backed her up and called me a dork (gotta love my kids), but whatever. I think I should let Lily have her fun since she's been grounded by Ginny for failing her exams.

Oh, and I'm Hadrian's Godfather! Malfoy asked me last week, a few days after he was born. Shame he's not Hadrian Ronald, though. I did try to convince Malfoy, but Marian put her foot down and said one pretentious name was more than enough (since when is  _Ronald_ a pretentious name?), so the kid has no middle name to speak of. Just Hadrian Malfoy (or Halcombe-Malfoy, if you want to get technical), the first Halfblood Malfoy in Merlin knows how many generations.

Blimey. Good luck to the kid, growing up around this bunch of loonies. I'll be amazed if he only turns out to be half normal.

 

**the end**


	4. Lorcan Scamander and the Year of Raging Hormones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Lorcan Scamander wants to do is get through his final year at Hogwarts smoothly. Too much to ask for, he supposes, because: Rose has bullied Scorpius into dating her, Albus is sulking, Lysander has decided death-defying stunts is a perfectly legitimate way to get Rose's attention, James is building barricades in the corridors, Hugo is on the hunt for the elusive Hogwarts "GossipGhost", and Lily keeps messing around with the space-time continuum. Also, his journal has become the school slut.

**Chapter 1: from the private journal of Lorcan Scamander I**

I am darkness.

I am silent; unobtrusive. Ever constant, ever present, but unnoticed and unseen unless I wish to be seen. I am the wind that rustles your curtains at night; the shadow that moves from the corner of your eye; the dark twin to all that exists. For when the sun sets, it is I who rules the majestic kingdom, casting darkness everywhere. I am the night, in all its wondrous incarnations. I am the shadow you cast when you walk in the sun, for even the brightest light casts the darkest shadow. I am –

 

> _oh my god Lorcan, you are so fucking pretentious._

– a long-suffering brother. It appears I shall have to make a more concentrated effort to hide my poetry and prose from inconsiderate family members who have no concept of privacy and even less appreciation for the higher forms of art.

* * *

 

_September 1, 2023_

Another year.

I have heard others lament as to where the time has gone – a phrase I cannot understand, as it is not as though time is  _running out_. It is true that our bodies age, but our perception of the universe and the dimension of time is very limited: who can truly say where time is  _going_ , or where it has  _gone_ , when it is in a constant state of flux?

(Allow me to commence the year by being more pretentious than usual. Perhaps it will deter certain persons and twin siblings from stealing my journal with the intention of defacing it.)

I intend to study the concept of time. From a linear, 'objective' point of view, I will have to wait until the end of this school year, though, to truly engage in the field. I find myself needing to perceive the world as others do in order to keep up with their postulations: for instance, Rose Victoria.

I met Rose first this morning on Platform 9 ¾. The extended Weasley family was early for once, and Rose was rereading her new textbooks for the year, already in a state about the N.E.W.T. examinations. Why, I've no idea, because from her own linear perspective the exams are not going to be held for quite a number of months so really she has plenty of time to study.

She was, I hesitate to admit, slightly irritating in her obsession, but from a distance I do actually find it indescribably endearing. She would not be the Rose Victoria Weasley I am so fond of if she did not work herself up into a wretched state of stress about examinations.

The measured time at the moment is late and I'm quite exhausted, but as I have for the past six years, I strive to recount the events of the day with the utmost precision. I am nothing if not dedicated.

The platform was, as always, crowded. As mentioned above, I first met up with the Weasley family; my mother and my father could not stay to see Lysander and myself off on the Hogwarts Express, as they were due to travel to Australia for an expedition. It is of no matter; they shall have fun, and my brother and I are perfectly qualified to see ourselves onto the train.

The Weasley clan is, for lack of a better description, immense; it would be remiss of me to say that Mr Malfoy does  _not_  have a point when he grumbles that half of Hogwarts appears to be populated solely by Weasleys. They are very distinctive on the platform. It is something of a joke amongst families: if you get lost on Platform 9 ¾, just locate the redheads and use them as a beacon. I am friends with all of them, or if not friends then friend _ly_. I admit, Lysander and I mostly stayed in their company because of Rose and to use the Weasleys as a homing beacon for Scorpius, who was late this year.

Albus Severus was also with us: he is tanned this year, from the summer – he and his immediate family spent a few weeks in Fiji. Apparently it wasn't quite his "thing", but he enjoyed reading in the hammocks. James Sirius was more adventurous, but he completed his schooling last year after making himself the History of Magic Professor and was not on the platform to see his younger siblings and cousins off. The ones who were present exchanged niceties and general enquiries about the summer break with me.

"Hello, Lorcan," Hugo greeted me in passing.

"Good morning, Hugo Martin. How are you this year?"

"Brilliant! Look at what I have –"

He pulled a Muggle mobile phone out of his pocket.

"It's very remarkable," I said, "but I'm afraid it won't work at Hogwarts, Hugo. Remember the last time you experimented with one?"

He flushed. "I know what I did wrong last time. I'll  _make_  it work! You just wait and see."

With luck, Hufflepuff won't pull another vanishing act due to the number of House Points Hugo is bound to lose them this year.

(It would naturally be irresponsible of me to engage in a betting ring about the number of points he'll lose. It would be even more irresponsible of me to bet on him losing up to 1000 points over the school year.)

Hugo is constantly pulling apart and re-inventing Muggle items of varying curious degrees. He has not always been successful (for example, 2021) but they have been rather ingenious, leading to many agreeing he should have been Sorted into Ravenclaw, or Gryffindor.

I myself am not the least bit surprised he was Sorted in Hufflepuff, as the boy is undyingly loyal – a virtue shadowed by his prowess in mixing technology with magic.

"Hugo, try not to blow up the dorm this year," Mrs Granger-Weasley had said to him at Platform 9 ¾. I know this only because I was standing beside Rose, Albus, and Lysander, waiting for Scorpius to arrive. Hugo had the grace to look sheepish.

"I'll try," he said, although I suspect he meant something more along the lines of, "No promises." Judging by Mrs Granger-Weasley's expression, I think she assumed the same.

Last year it was an e-reader, but he didn't lose points then because everyone was worried Hufflepuff would vanish again. From what I know through Scorpius, Muggle technology does not always work especially well in the Malfoy Manor, hence Hugo's dedication to trying to manipulate it to the point where it will for Miss Livia. Sadly, his inventions have a habit of exploding periodically, and now between him and Lily Luna, the school has become something of a minefield.

 _Unlike_  Lily, however, Hugo has no mischievous intent.

As I was also beside the Potter clan, I heard Mrs Potter (who insists every time I see her to call her 'Ginny' but will agree to 'Ginevra Molly' if she must) say to her daughter, "Lily, if I get one more letter from the Headmaster telling me you've flunked out of five classes but managed to spell half of the school a second out of synch, you will receive the Howler of your  _life_."

Only in her fifth year, but has allegedly already received letter with offers of employment from the Department of Mysteries! Now  _there_  is a woman who has an extraordinary grasp of time and its mysteries. It is a shame she is dating David Forster; were I not terrified of Albus's reaction, I should like to ask her out myself, although I admit that my interest in her is not necessarily romantic but rather intellectual. I doubt that would make a difference to Albus.

The Malfoy family was late this morning. Mr Malfoy looked rather weary when I saw him arrive with his family, although logically this can be attributed to the multitasking he accomplishes these days: with one child to be taken to Platform 9 ¾, one child to be taken to Muggle Kent shortly afterwards, and another child screaming and wailing in his wife's arms, it does appear to be a bit of a handful.

"Good morning, Mr Malfoy," I said, just as Mrs Halcombe-Malfoy handed him the screaming toddler.

"Good morning, Lorcan," he said over his young son's screams. "How are you?"

"Edified," I replied, although I doubt he asked me out of interest, merely politeness, as he was now struggling to calm the youngest member of his family and did not seem particularly concerned with my response.

"Dad, you're hopeless. Give him here," Scorpius said, and took the baby who immediately stopped crying once in his brother's arms.

"Oh, well, that's nice," Mr Malfoy said, scowling at his son. "Thank you, Hadrian. I suppose you'll burst into tears again when Scorpius hands you back?"

Hadrian giggled at him. Scorpius handed young Hadrian back to Mrs Halcombe-Malfoy who asked me how I was, although she did confuse me with Lysander. I didn't correct her.

I noticed Hugo and Miss Livia talking off on the side. Miss Livia is often in the papers these days; she looked very fashionable this morning. Samael Glyde hung around them as well, ever eagre for the chance to be involved with the special bond Hugo and Miss Livia have.

With luck I won't be hearing too much of Samael's work this year; he is a little  _too_  enamoured by the art of necromancy than is strictly necessary.

The usual rush occurred after that – Mr Weasley, Mrs-Granger Weasley, and Mr and Mrs Potter exchanged greetings with the Malfoys, and Scorpius joined Rose, Albus, Lysander, and myself to board the train.

There is nothing in particular worth noting about the train ride to Hogwarts. Lysander and I conversed with Rose, Albus, and Scorpius, and my brother made a rather dramatic speech about becoming a famous adventurer upon the conclusion of his education at Hogwarts. He has been saying this for years, though, so all it merited were a couple of eye-rolls from our friends. Everything that followed is, again, not especially worth noting. The Sorting was enjoyable and the feast elaborate as always.

The Prefects of Ravenclaw, Yolanda Liu and Nathan Nightingale, took the first years with them first. Albus, Scorpius and I dawdled a bit – no particular reason, other than to avoid the stampede of students. When we arrived at the Ravenclaw door, it was Scorpius who raised his fist to give a single knock.

"When is a hat not a hat?" the eagle doorknob asked.

Scorpius stared at it. "Okay, this door has it out for me. I think it's doing it on purpose."

"Doing what?" I enquired.

"Getting harder every year!"

"That's awfully paranoid of you, Scorpius Hyperion, don't you think?"

Albus shook his head. "No, I'm with Scorpius. It's getting harder on purpose."

"Well, what do you think the answer is?" I asked. Let it never be said I am inconsiderate and am not patient enough to hear other peoples' opinions.

"When is a hat not a hat?" Albus repeated. "I don't know! When it's a condom?"

So crude. Scorpius poked my shoulder. "Come on, let us in."

I am never ceased to be amazed at how the Hat could possibly have Sorted both of those boys into Ravenclaw. Over the past six years they have spent a total of twenty-eight nights sleeping in the corridor because they could not answer the eagle door.

I suspect the door had been taking pity on them, though, because last year I noticed its questions were considerably simplified: "To be or not to be?" was one of them.

Now, if only they'd known their Shakespeare (a downfall for Hogwarts, as the school does not teach his rich works), they'd have known the answer was, "That is the question."

For the past six years, they have always made certain to seek me out before evening or returning to the common room so that I might answer the door for them. I was happy to oblige for the first few years, but it is getting rather ridiculous now.

"When is a hat not a hat?" I said, stepping forwards. "What a fascinating question. I suppose it depends, really, on what angle one would come from. There are many different answers."

"Indeed there are," the door intoned.

"Ah, so this would therefore imply you would accept a number of answers, except, of course, the answer that a hat is not a hat when it is a condom. Hence, you do will not accept any form of literal answer." At least, not from Albus and Scorpius. I wrote above that the door was taking pity on them last year; it appears to have quickly returned to frustration.

I do not condone the door's feelings at all. That would be terrible of me.

"Oh, Merlin," I heard Albus groan behind me, "he's philosophising with the door again."

'Again', he said – it is not as though I do it on  _purpose_ , of course. That would be simply  _petty_  of me.

"When a hat is not a hat, it is something else," I mused. "It could be anything else. Everything I am  _saying_  could be or mean anything else. These are just sounds representative of meaning, are they not? What a truly enticing hypothesis. For words are –"

"Lorcan, will you please just get the damn door open?"

I turned to face him. "Whatever is your hurry, Albus Severus?"

He stared at me incredulously. "Aside from the fact that I'd rather not spend another night sleeping in the corridor while you flirt with a door?"

I concede, that only happened once. In my defence, it had been a very engaging discussion. (The fact that Scorpius had been very rude to me earlier that day had no bearing whatsoever on the situation.)

"I know that time doesn't exist in a 'strict progression of cause to effect' or whatever for you, but it does for the rest of us mortals and I need to pee  _now_."

Again, so crude. Alas. I sighed and returned to face the door. " _Ceci n'est pas une pipe_ ," I said.

"Well reasoned," the eagle replied, and the door opened.

"Okay, now  _you_  did that on purpose," Scorpius scowled at me. "What do pipes have to do with it?"

"I don't get it," Albus said, defeated, and embarked upon his journey to the lavatory.

That was a few hours ago. I am in bed now, and as I write this I can hear Nathan Nightingale and Rowan Davies snoring; they went to sleep about twenty minutes ago. Albus and Scorpius are still talking. It is a habit of mine to record their conversations:

"Hey, Al?"

"Yeah."

"I'm going out with Rose."

"Mmmph."

"Like, dating."

"M'kay."

"…Did you hear what I said?"

"Nmph."

"I take it that means you're okay with it?"

"Yeah, yeah."

One, two, three…

"Wait, what?  _What?_ "

Oh, dear, is all I can think. Rose has been making her feelings for Scorpius rather overt these last few weeks over the holidays, although I am surprised by the recent development of them  _actually_  dating. (I sincerely hope that awful gossip column doesn't make an appearance this year; Merlin know what it will make of this. Either that, or the teachers find a way to remove the permanent sticking charm from the Hogwarts general notice board.)

I was under the impression, at least for the past year or so, that Scorpius was quite taken by someone else, which leads me beg the question that perhaps Rose merely bullied him into asking her out.

I say Rose has feelings for Scorpius; I actually mean that I suspect she likes the  _idea_  of being romantically inclined towards him and does not bear true romantic feelings, if only due to the fact that Mr Weasley (who, like his sister, insists I call him by his first name, but will also grudgingly settle for 'Ronald Bilius') tells her every summer break that he'll never forgive her if she marries a Pureblood. I think she just wants to give her father a panic attack.

There is an unstated 'group' in our year: Lysander-Rose-Albus-Scorpius-Lorcan. Lysander and I, however, know perfectly well that we are the outliers, the two on the fringe: the group of five is more accurately described as a group of three plus two.

It does not cause me any undue angst, as I find myself in possession of the finest friends regardless. Lysander, I think, is more disappointed, but he has his own camaraderie with other Gryffindors.

Writing of Lysander, I fear he will not take the news of Rose and Scorpius with much enthusiasm, but really, it is his own fault for not asking her out first.

At the moment, Albus is pretending everything is fine and Scorpius is awkwardly reassuring him that nothing will be different and he promises that it won't be weird, even though Rose is Albus's cousin. I suspect that is indeed one of Albus's concerns – that he'll be excluded, and the group of three (plus two) will become a group of two plus one (plus two).

He needn't worry, though – I doubt Scorpius's and Rose's relationship will last for much longer than a month, and when (not if,  _when_ ) they break up, their friendship will come out unharmed. If that is  _not_  what is bothering him, though, I shall not do him the disservice of speculating about his feelings in a journal that my brother seems to be able to find and read on whim, no matter what pains I go to in order to hide it.

Let me merely state that I think I know what it is that is really bothering him, but am certainly above placing bets with Lily Luna. Because that would be vastly irresponsible of me.

As for me… I cannot help but feel somewhat at a loss myself. If Scorpius does not have romantic feelings for Rose, I see no reason for him to pretend he does.

My friends frequently confuse me, even now. Lily is the only one who makes sense around here when she's not almost getting herself expelled.

I shall now retire. With luck, I will make my way through my final year with limited hassle.

* * *

Posted on the general Hogwarts noticeboard:

_Hello again, Hogwarts,_

_That's right, I'm back – your one and only guide into the scandalous lives of Hogwarts' elite. And what a crop we have this year!_

_At the risk of boring you newbies, the old hands may be interested to know that our favourite little Ravenclaw soap opera just took an intriguingly heterosexual turn. But don't get your money back from bookies just yet – something tells me that the best is yet to come. And by "best" I of course mean the opposite!_

_In other news, here's a shout-out to our favourite miss goody-two-shoes in Slytherin: watch your back, honey. We haven't forgotten last year, and I know EXACTLY what you did last summer. And sweetheart, I'm so very, very bad at keeping secrets._

_And who am I? Well, that's one secret I'll never tell… and H? No matter how promising a candidate that lonely writer boy looks, I can assure you his latent sociopathic tendencies have got NOTHING on mine._

_You know you love me,_

_xoxo GossipGhost_

* * *

  
  
**Chapter 2: from the not-so-private journal of Lorcan Scamander II**

_Entry by Lysander Scamander_

_September 5, 2023_

You know, Lorcan, I've noticed you've become progressively  _ruder_  over the years. Also, I'm stealing and defacing your pretentious diary. Just in case I hadn't made it clear already. At first I was just going to draw some cocks on a few of the pages but then I read your vicious gossip about me. If I didn't know better, you twat, I'd say  _you_  were GossipGhost! You're certainly bitchy enough. How come you don't give Score and Al the "disservice of speculating about their feelings" and you don't extend the same courtesy to me? Arse. Also, you suck at hiding your diary.

And I'll have you know that I did too ask Rose out first. Silently. From a distance.

But seriously, her and  _Scorpius?_  What the hell? Like, was he even an  _option_  for her? If there's one thing I agree with you on, it's that I can't think of any reason for Scorpius to pretend he's got the hots for Rose. Other than denial, of course. Guess he'd rather face Mr Weasley's wrath than his own sexuality crisis.

Anyway. Scorpius sat at the Gryffindor table this morning to be lovey-dovey with Rose. Absolutely sickening. Although, to be fair, he didn't look half as engaged as she did. You didn't notice because you were too busy reading a book that probably weighs more than Hagrid, but Al sure as hell noticed and sulked up a storm. He hasn't said anything yet, but it'll be funny when he explodes at Rose and Score. I've put in 10 Galleons for this time next month.

You know, this is actually kind of cathartic. Is this why you keep a journal? To talk about people behind their backs for fun? Maybe you  _are_  GossipGhost.

I was with Hugo yesterday when Professor Longbottom confiscated his mobile phone. Hugo looked really downbeat but at least this way we don't have to worry about one of the wings almost collapsing.

"Hugo," Professor Longbottom said, stopping us in the hallway, "I know you brought Muggle technology with you."

Hugo's not a good liar. Poor kid, he's got a rubbish poker face. He looked as guilty as a Slytherin around a Sneakoscope.

(By the by, did you know that Professor Longbottom and Mum used to  _date_? After the War! They dated! I found out by accident this morning when I accidentally-on-purpose read Al's letter from his mum over his shoulder. There are just  _so many things wrong with that._ )

Back on track. Hugo caved in like a second and miserably handed over the phone to Professor Longbottom. Longbottom raised his eyebrows. "Thank you, Hugo. You can have this back at the end of the term. I won't deduct points from you, because you honest with me."

More's the pity, but there'll be plenty of chances this year for him to lose points. I've got 30 Galleons on him losing up 500 points. I think you're being a bit ambitious with your 1000 – no-one's going to risk the 'Puffs disappearing again. He'll have to divert his energies now, though. I think I overhead him talking to that creepy Glyde kid that he's going on a quest to discover GossipGhost's identity, so Hugo will have a much less destructive hobby this year. Good luck to him, I say – people have been trying to find GG's identity for  _years_. Popular candidates are Moaning Myrtle and Peeves, but personally I don't reckon it's a ghost at all. Watch out or I'll point Hugo in your direction.

Anyway. Rose barely looked at me today. We normally talk all the time because out of group of  _five,_ Lorcan, we're the only two actually  _in_  Gryffindor. But nope, this time good ol' Malfoy joined us in the Common Room today and she was too busy sucking his face off to say hi to me. Just – ew. So much ew.

So, now that the first week of classes are over (holy  _shit_  Transfiguration is hard!) I'm going to throw myself off the Astronomy Tower and see if I can Accio my broomstick to me before I hit the ground. I've bet Terrence 20 Galleons that I can do it. Essays? What essays?

Don't go being a pretentious twat now, Lorcan. And yes, that is a cock on the opposite page. What are you going to do about it?

* * *

Posted on the general Hogwarts noticeboard:

_\- It seems Little H has run out of toys to play with. Can we get a Squib in here to distract him, before he blows us all up with boredom?_

_\- The potions classroom is well used to meltdowns, explosions and fireworks… but usually they're confined to the cauldrons! Does today's altercation have anything to do with a certain clandestine greenhouse assignation? One thing's for sure, Gryffindors know how to bring the drama!_

_\- Spotted: One lonely little diary, lurking in a bathroom._   _Déjà vu_   _? Or just carelessness?_

* * *

_Entry by Lorcan Scamander_

_September 9, 2023_

I should be outraged for several reasons, but at the moment I am most concerned about your artistic representation of a phallus. I sincerely hope you did not use yourself as a reference, Lysander, because if you did then I highly suggest you take yourself to the Hospital Wing immediately for a check-up.

I was unaware Professor Longbottom confiscated Hugo's phone. It is probably for the best, as I would like to go at least one year without a section of the school almost collapsing. Lily will be disappointed; she often used the destructive aftermath of Hugo's failed experiments and inventions as a cover for her own troublemaking.

I  _was_  aware that Professor Longbottom and our mother used to date after the War. Pictures of her and our Deputy Headmaster in their youth are in the family photo album. Perhaps if my esteemed brother were less focused on death-defying stunts and more aware of his family, he would have known this many years ago. Perhaps he can use some of his detention hours this coming week to reflect on his life choices.

Breakfast was terribly entertaining this morning. Lysander believes I do not pay attention, but he is quite incorrect in this assumption. Just because I happened to spend most of the morning reading a book that is "heavier than Hagrid" (which it is not; I do have the common sense to cast a lightening charm on the book) does not mean I do not know what is going on around me.

I digress.

This morning at breakfast, Lysander almost lost his early-October bet for Albus' "explosion". It is indeed true that Albus has been in a foul mood for the last week, responding to other people in the form of snaps and grunts and grumbles. He lost his temper with Lily yesterday when she asked if it was "his time of the month".

Scorpius finally noticed as well. "What's your problem, Albus?" he asked after Albus scowled at him for the fourth time this morning.

"Nothing," he lied moodily. Scorpius, and the rest of the table, was unconvinced.

"If nothing is wrong, why do you look so constipated?"

Classy, as always.

Albus fumed silently for a moment, then finally snapped, "Maybe – maybe I'm  _not_  okay with you dating my cousin."

(The sudden air of silence along the table went unnoticed by both of them.)

Scorpius looked quite startled. "I'm not dating Hugo," he replied. Albus didn't laugh.

"Rose!"

"Why?"

Albus stabbed a tomato with his fork. "It's just – I'm her cousin. You know? It's – it's weird. Being around you two. How would you feel if I was snogging Livia?"

"Content in the knowledge that my father and Hugo would kill you first."

"That's not what I –"

They were interrupted by James Sirius, who sometimes graces the House tables with his presence. "Awww," he said, slinging an arm around his brother and cutting through the tense atmosphere, "are you feeling like a third wheel, Al?"

Albus pushed him away. "Piss off, James!"

James – although technically I should call him Professor Potter – laughed and stood back. "Ten points from Ravenclaw for swearing at a teacher."

"You can't do that!"

"Yeah I can."

"You're not even a real teacher!"

I somehow sense that James' swift intervention was not out of altruism, but I cannot complain. Scorpius and Albus were amicable enough for the rest of the day; a good thing for me, as I have suffered through their fights before and am usually forced to take the bed between them in the Dorm. Lily often jokes that if I had an Animagus form, it would be an owl so that I could transport passive-aggressive messages between the two of them.

The day so far has been going smoothly enough, following the tense breakfast. I have reconnected with many of my acquaintances that I lost contact with over the holidays, and it was particularly nice to have a chance to speak to Yolanda alone. I have missed her greatly since the last school year. She told me she is now going out with Nathan Nightingale. Congratulations to them – I always thought they were rather suited.

_Later_

I am pleased to write that the rest of my day continued to go smoothly. Classes were difficult, but enjoyably challenging, and no-one has had a breakdown from the stress yet. I cannot vouch for next week going without one, however.

I am in the library now, taking some time to myself before dinner. I find myself craving my own company when I am struck by inspiration for my studies with time. It was something Lily Luna said to me today during lunch. (Neither Scorpius nor Albus were at lunch today; I am led to understand that Rose was with Scorpius, and Albus was in the dungeons experimenting with potions again.)

"Oh, Lorcan!" Lily said, sitting down next to me. She stole some bacon off my plate, but I did not protest; I do need to take care of my cholesterol levels, after all. "I've been looking for you."

"You appear to have found me."

She grinned. She has a very pleasing smile. I returned it.

"How may I help you?"

"No, nothing, s'just a thought I had, and I reckoned you'd be interested."

"I am ever keen to listen to the wonders of your intellect."

People often mistake my sincerity for mocking. I cannot imagine why. But Lily always knows the difference, and continued to talk. I am glad; it is truly an honour to be graced by her ingenuity. "Time Travel."

"Ah."

I forgot about my lunch. In hindsight, that is probably why I am so hungry now; I ought to attend dinner soon.

"So, the Ministry's failed at making a Time Turner ever since my parents busted their stock up in 1996, right? But what about before that, when Time Turners could still be used? I know they only went back a couple of hours at a time, but if they were so dangerous and people were so paranoid about messing up time, why aren't there recorded incidents of people messing up and creating paradoxes?"

Lily stopped there and waited for my answer. "I suppose that if the subjective past were altered and the subjective future changed, one would not notice it; their memories would alter with it," I suggested. This was not a new concept, but it's helpful to reiterate things out loud; I find it helps one gain new perspectives on things.

"Ah, but!" She pulled out a sketch she'd done in shorthand ancient Runes.

"I hope you did not do this during one of your classes instead of work. Your mother will be very cross."

Lily waved her hand. "It was only Transfiguration."

"Your OWLs are this year."

"So? Pay attention!"

I obeyed.

"Here's what I think. Time is a flexible dimension, with everything that has happened and will happen all happening at once, just beyond the boundaries that our minds are capable of perceiving. But it's a  _steady_  state of flux. What is is, and it physically  _can't_  be changed, even if you know the future. Common theory, yes, but I'm gonna take it further: no matter what someone does in the past to change the future, they only ever end up creating it." She sat forward and tapped her diagram. "Which means if someone goes back into the past, they can do anything.  _Anything_. And it won't affect the future, because it would have already happened."

I have always been a subscriber to the school of thought that at any given moment, we could be living in a "present" that has been altered by Time Travel and divergences in the past, but that our minds collectively "update", so to speak, to adapt to any of the changes, thus we would not notice them. Or perhaps – and far more likely, as per Lily's school of thought – time is a steady state of flux. What is, is, and cannot be altered. It is an intriguing idea. Not one I necessarily agree with, but an intriguing one nonetheless.

I do so enjoy conversing with her.

I must give this greater thought. After dinner, of course.

When you inevitably steal my journal again, Lysander, might I request that you do not leave my journal in the bathrooms again? I realise you feel quite at home there, but I do not consider it to be the most hygienic of places.

* * *

Posted on the general Hogwarts noticeboard:

_\- Aw, looks like the green-eyed Ravenclaw is feeling the claws of the green-eyed_ monster _! Place your bets, people – my feeling is that brotherly intervention can only hold this little storm back for so long._

 _\- Look J-Lann - everyone's thinking it, so I'll just say it. The way you keep looking at your sister? Honey, no. You're even making_ me _uncomfortable._

_\- Found: Three days worth of summer holiday snaps. Look sharp, Miss Green and Silver._

_\- In other news, I'm sure you're all dying to know what happened to last year's drama queens, our beloved Class of 2023. Well, I can reveal exclusively that C and E's dramatic lakeside break-up has proved decidedly non-permanent. Unless C has found_ another _amour with such dramatic taste in capes…_

* * *

  
  
**Chapter 3: correspondence I**

_October 2, 2023_

Miss Livia Malfoy  
Ravenswood College, Old Church Road  
Pembury, Tunbridge Wells  
Kent TN2 4AX, England

Dear Livia,

 _So_  much is happening at Hogwarts this year! You won't believe this – Rose and Scorpius are dating! Gross, much? Imagine if they got married. We'd be brother- and sister-in-law. It's too weird for me to think about.

How are things with you? Is Ravenswood still going well? I finally read that series of books you lent me – they're really great! Muggles are hilarious when it comes to magic.

I still haven't fixed a Muggle phone to get reception in dense magical areas. And I probably won't get to try again until Christmas! The teachers confiscated my phone. So, instead! I am on a daring quest to uncover the identity of the mysterious GossipGhost. Ever since he or she appeared a couple of years ago people have been trying and failing to find out who it is and how they know so much about everyone. Usually I don't pay much attention to it but it's being really vicious this year and I don't have anything else to do. I mean, yeah, I have school work which is kind of important (but not as important as my inventions! Why can't people understand?). I'll let you know about my progress. So far the suspects are:

\- Peeves (obvious)

\- Myrtle

\- A Slytherin girl in 7th Year whose name I haven't worked out

\- A portrait (possibly Snape; he glares at everyone who walks past him)

So… basically I haven't gotten very far yet.

Samael is going to help me out, but he's a being stranger than usual this year. He keeps wanting me to help him research Necromancy. Eeurgh. I feel sorry for him, though – I think I'm his only friend. And don't worry, I'm not showing any of the letters to him. He knows not to read any of them if I'm not there to receive them.

Hope to hear from you soon!

Love,

Hugo

PS: Does your dad still have you on the magical theory lessons?

* * *

_October 7, 2023_

Malfoy, get over to Fortescue's  _now_.

R. Weasley

* * *

_October 8, 2023_

Dear Rose,

Okay, what the  _hell_  is this I hear about you and the Malfoy kid dating? When was this ever a thing? Was he even an  _option_  for you? And most of all, why did I have to find out from Luna Lovegood?

Right, now that I've gotten that out of my system: I hope you're doing well and you're not working yourself up into a state about your NEWTs. I know how like your mother you get sometimes, so believe me when I tell you that your NEWTs aren't the defining moment of your life. And don't hurt yourself studying, either. I remember when your mum made me sit the NEWTs after the War – it wasn't like I  _needed_  them and I thought I was doing fine, but  _her_  stress about it made me sick up. So don't let her stress you out. Let me know if she does.

Things at home are going okay. Nothing exciting to report. Need anything from home? Write soon.

Love,

Your father

PS: Don't you even  _think_  about marrying Scorpius. I mean it, Rose. This is my stern handwriting.

* * *

_October 15, 2023_

FORWARD TO:  
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Hugo Weasley  
Weasley House, St. Andrew's Road  
Avon, Portbury  
Somerset BS24 9AY, UK

Dear Hugo,

Rose and Scorpius! Really? That's… unexpected, and quite bizarre. Was Scorpius even an option for Rose? How is Albus taking it?

Things are going well! School is challenging, as always. I am ever intrigued by the curriculum differences between the Magical world and the Muggle world. I've started Legal Studies this year and it's very interesting, although I think English will continue to be my one true love. It's nice being at school – I appreciate the hard work Dad does for me to be involved with the magical world, but it's nice to have a break from the reporters sometimes.

I'm glad you liked the books! I'll send you another one sometime soon.

I am sorry to hear about your phone being confiscated, but it's for the best, Hugo. I couldn't stand it if you disappeared for another year because you lost Hufflepuff 2000 points again! Then who would I write to? (As you can see, my feelings on the matter are completely unselfish.) So good luck with GossipGhost, and try not to get into too much trouble…

Good. Samael never admitted to it, but I  _know_  he'd been reading my letters to you during the year Hufflepuff vanished and I am  _not_  okay with that level of privacy invasion. I don't care how lonely he is, Hugo – my correspondence intended for you is for you only. If he wants to send me his own letters, he can. I disapprove of his level of fascination with Necromancy – please don't get involved with it, Hugo! Keep to your inventions. Or in this year's case, investigations. And do keep me posted on your progress with GG, I'm very interested!

Keep well, and write again soon!

Love,

Livia

PS: Yes, Dad is  _still_  making me learn magical theory. It's all good and well to have an understanding of the theoretical properties of magic, but I just don't see the  _point_. It's getting more complex every year and it's ridiculous to just learn theory when I'll never be able to put it into practice.

Sorry, that… turned into a bit of a rant. Why do you ask?

* * *

_October 23, 2023_

Dear Dad,

See, this is why I didn't tell you. I'd say you found out from Luna because Lysander probably whined about it in a letter to her. He's been insufferable all term! Sulking and jumping off the Astronomy Tower for attention. I gave him  _plenty_  of attention last year, so he has no-one to blame but himself.

Thanks for the pep talk. It's been pretty stressful at school. Most of the teachers start every class by reassuring us that our NEWTs aren't the "be-all-and-end-all" of our lives, but that if we don't do well in them then basically we'll amount to nothing in life and will end up begging for Knuts in Knockturn Alley. A few kids have already been put in the Hospital Wing for stress and anxiety. I'm holding up okay for now. And, thanks again. I'll let you know if Mum starts scaring me.

No news is good news, right? I'm glad things are going all right. Other than my exams, things are all right here as well. Albus has been a sulky idiot since Scorpius told him that we were going out and he's being really annoying. I think he and Lysander should form a boy band so they can sing about their angst and be done with it. Hugo is diverting his energies into unveiling GG's identity ever since Professor Longbottom confiscated the Muggle phone he had on him. I guess you and Mum didn't do a very good job of checking his belongings!

Love,

Rose

PS: Usually the defence is that I'm seventeen and you can't tell me what to do anymore, but in reality it's if you want me to take you seriously, you could start by improving your penmanship – it took me three days to decipher your "stern" handwriting.

* * *

_October 29, 2023_

Dear Dad,

Sorry it's been a while since I wrote to you. You'll be pleased to hear that I'm keeping out of trouble, since things have been pretty busy with schoolwork. No quests with Rose and Al this year – we're all bogged down with work. And you should know by now that it's not us three you have to worry about anymore, it's Hugo and Lily. Thankfully none of the corridors or wings have exploded yet, which is a new record.

Transfiguration is really tough this year and Professor Morgenstern says that it's just going to get harder. I have to watch out that I don't fall behind Rose, otherwise she'll never let me hear the end of it.

Speaking of Rose, I'm dating her. She asked me out just before school started this year and I said yes, so… yeah. Just thought you'd want to hear it from me before you find out through the gossip vine or from Mr Weasley.

And speaking of gossip, GossipGhost is back. The teachers can't remove the sticking charm from that parchment on the general notice board. It's a pain in the arse. Hugo's on a quest to find GG's identity. He reckons it might be Myrtle, but I don't know.

I'll write again soon.

Love,

Scorpius

PS: Say hi to Marian and Hadrian for me, please?

* * *

_November 5, 2023_

Dear Scorpius,

That's all right; I assumed you would be busy. It pleases me to hear that you're keeping focused on your schoolwork. It is also pleasing to hear that the red-haired Weasley/Potter maniacs haven't blown up the school yet.

You, fall behind Rose in Transfiguration? Colour me shocked the day that happens.

Yes, I already know about you and Rose; her father told me (i.e.: ranted at me) about it at Fortescue's last month. And again at work. And then again at a dinner party. And yesterday at work again. I have no strong feelings on the matter one way or the other, but I'm quite… surprised, to be honest. Since when were you ever an option for her? But whatever you do, don't incur Weasley's wrath because  _I'll_  be the one to get it first. I would like to keep what remains of my hair, Scorpius.

I keep hearing about this GossipGhost figure. I don't think it's Myrtle. I suppose Peeves is too obvious a culprit?

Talk to you again soon, Scorpius.

Love,

Your father

PS: You  _could_  just write letters to them yourself, you know, but I will of course pass along your "hi". Marian says "Hello" and asked about how your classes are going, and Hadrian drooled on my shirt.

* * *

_November 14, 2023_

Dear Lysander,

I've heard from Neville that you have taken to jumping off the Astronomy Tower and swimming in the Lake. What peculiar hobbies, but if it's what you like doing, would you like a parachute now that your broom has been confiscated? Or maybe a canoe. They might be a bit hard to send by owl, though, so your father has also suggested some abseiling equipment and a bubble. I think the bubble is for a child, though – it seems too small to fit you.

Much love,

Luna

PS: Please stop taking your brother's diary. He is very fond of it, and you only need to ask if you want one for yourself.

* * *

_November 26, 2023_

Dear Lily,

Really? The Restricted Section? Your father is telling me I should be pleased that you waited until the end of November to get into trouble, but I'm not! You were  _so close_  to being expelled in June, Lily – don't jeopardise the rest of your schooling because I swear to Merlin if you do, I am  _not_ paying for you to go to Durmstrang or Beauxbatons – you'll have to get a job and pay for your own education! If you  _have_  to break into the Restricted Section, at the very least try to not get caught.

Be grateful this isn't a Howler!

Love,

Mum

PS: I've attached a package of macaroons for you and your friends to share. Don't let Crowley near Malfoy's owl!

* * *

  
  
**Chapter 4: from the not-so-private journal of Lorcan Scamander III**

_Entry by Lorcan Scamander_

_November 18, 2023_

Once again I find myself unamused by my brother's antics, but at least he left my journal in the dungeons this time instead of a bathroom. It seems I shall have to once again find a better place to hide my journal; no matter what lengths I go to in order to keep it protected, Lysander somehow manages to find it.

I take solace in the fact that he has lost his bet for Albus' predicted "explosion" last night after dinner. We find the library does not always suit our means, as sometimes "studying" can become quite, well, loud and we are frequently asked to leave. The Common Rooms also do not suit our purposes during winter, because everyone goes there. So we utilise empty classrooms instead and Transfigure chairs into couches for general comfort.

Yesterday Rose carried on with Scorpius much as the way she had been for the last month and a half. They'd always been close – they were, after all, each other's first proper friends at Hogwarts – and it is not unusual to witness them curled up together on a couch. It  _is_  unusual to witness Rose blatantly caressing his leg.

Lysander sulked about it and said nothing. For all his antics in throwing himself off the Astronomy tower and swimming in the Lake in the middle of winter, he really isn't very brave.

Albus was a little more vocal about his discomfort.

"Could you two  _not?_ " Albus finally snapped when Rose tugged Scorpius' arm around her shoulders.

Rose turned to face him and grinned. "What's the matter? Lysander's free to cuddle up with, if you're feeling excluded."

Albus sneered at her (and Lysander edged away a little), and returned to his essay. Scorpius looked torn.

"Hey, Al –"

"S'fine."

Scorpius disentangled himself from Rose. "Can we talk outside?" he asked Albus. "Please?"

Scorpius looked very distressed in that moment. Scorpius and Albus, for all their fights and clashes, are best friends, and they haven't been at ease with each other all term. Neither of them feel good about it, that much is obvious. Albus stared at Scorpius for a long second, ignoring myself and Lysander and Rose; the tension was palpable. Then he nodded and stood up.

"Yeah, okay. C'mon. No-one touch my essay."

Scorpius started to stand up as well, but Rose grabbed his arm. "No!"

Everyone was staring at her now.

"Uh…" Scorpius articulated.

She blushed. "It's just – I need – I need, uh –" Rose bit her lip and glanced around, and then quickly continued, "Transfiguration. This essay is due tomorrow, Scorpius, and I need your help. Now. For the rest of the night."

Indeed.

Albus scowled and Scorpius looked confused. "You never ask for help –"

"It's our NEWTs year, Scorpius!" she cried. "You have no idea what asking for your help is costing me, but I really need it!"

"Look, me and Al will just take a second –"

"You'll take hours, I know you will! Please, Scorpius!"

Scorpius looked torn again between his two best friends. Incur Rose's wrath for deserting her and her work, or incur Albus' ever-souring attitude?

Lysander seized his final chance to win his bet, and egged Albus' temper on. "Why should Al have to wait? You two have been excluding him all term!"

"Yeah," Albus agreed, encouraged by this. "And actually, I'm getting really annoyed!"

The glare Rose gave Lysander could have curled milk.

I have no desire to see my friends fight.

"I understand, Albus Severus," I soothed, and they all fell silent and turned to face me. "But you and Scorpius Hyperion will have the chance to talk tonight in the Dorm." (They did not, because it was late and they went straight to sleep.) "Let's try to finish our work first. If that is… hopefully agreeable with everyone?"

Tensions defused, Albus nodded stiffly and slumped back down into couch. Scorpius resumed his position beside Rose, but noticeably did not sit so close to her this time.

Lysander had the self-control to wait until afterwards when we all left the classroom to return to our respective Houses to approach me and smack my arm. "You absolute prat, you just lost me 50 Galleons!"

I resent his implication of sabotage. "It is not my fault you are unwise with your betting choices."

He stomped off after Rose back to the Gryffindor tower and knocked at least two young Slytherins right into the Bloody Baron's path.

So now he is cross with me. But I know of at least one person who will not complain, and is in fact quite grateful to me: I now have sufficient funds to purchase myself a rare out-of-print book on the subject of time travel.

It is quite possibly the first book ever written about the subject, the one to kick off the studies, and I am led to believe it was penned by one of my Scamander ancestors, dated back to the early 17th Century. I had the fortune to trace it through an antique books dealer in Hogsmeade when I was last there on a weekend. I have no doubt Lily will find it a most intriguing read.

* * *

Posted on the general Hogwarts noticeboard:

_\- Spotted: Three sherry bottles and a silvery stepladder. Looks like_ someone's _off the wagon again. Students of the future beware!_

_\- Roses are red / Roses are white / Being rather clingy / With your boyfriend tonight?_

_\- Darling Green-and-Silver Girl – someone like you shouldn't be looking so down! After all, you got the photos, you got the grades, and of course: you got the guy! Shame at least two of those things don't actually belong to you… or don't you remember?_

* * *

_Entry by Lorcan Scamander_

_December 2, 2023_

Today was tiring, but eventful. I have succeeded in finding a hiding place for my journal, as Lysander has not stolen it and defiled it since mid-November. He is much frustrated by this and takes his emotions out on abseiling down the side of the Astronomy Tower. Father thought it would be easier to send that equipment than a parachute, although I suspect I know what Mother has for him for Christmas.

Of course, Lysander managed to talk Professor Longbottom into getting his broom back for the Quidditch match today, as he is Gryffindor's Chaser.

"All right, Lysander," Professor Longbottom agreed, "but  _only_  for the game, and then it's coming straight back to my office. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

Professor Longbottom held it back just as Lysander reached for it. "Play well, Mister Scamander," he said sternly, because Gryffindor's opponent was Hufflepuff and Professor Longbottom clearly had no intention of seeing his House lose to Professor Otterburn's House.

I made my way down to the Quidditch pitch with Lysander after that. Well, I say  _I_  made my way; I in fact mean Lysander dragged me down because apparently if I spent another game in the library he'd disown me as his brother and brand me as a social recluse. I thought he'd already done both of those things but it is nice to know he is not  _always_  a man of his word. One our way to the stands, I ran into Lily.

"Hi, Lorcan!" she said. "Looking forwards to the game?"

I had no strong feelings one way or the other, but Lily was, as usual, dressed to perfection and ready to cheer on Gryffindor House, being the Quidditch enthusiast that she is. She would no doubt be on the Gryffindor team by now if she hadn't been threatened with expulsion at the end of her fourth year. She won't be allowed to try out again until her sixth year.

"I am," I half-lied, and she snorted because she knows perfectly well about my indifference towards the game.

Lysander rather spoiled the mood by clapping a gloved hand hard on my shoulder. "Lorcan hates Quidditch,"

" _Hate_  is a strong word," I protested.

"You fell asleep during the Cannons versus the Harpies last year! Who  _does_  that? You're such a bore, Lorcan." He swung his broomstick over his shoulder. "Cheer for me, won't you, little brother?"

I hardly think being born seven minutes after him makes me his "little" brother, but we have called each other worse things. "Assuming I haven't fallen asleep in the middle of the game, of course I shall cheer for you."

He beamed and sauntered off, presumably to try and impress Rose without utilising his speech. It has not been working to his advantage lately. I returned my attention to Lily.

"You sitting with the Ravenclaws today, or would you like to join me?" she asked.

I almost said I would like to join her, but at that moment David Forster arrived and wrapped his arm around Lily's shoulder.

It's not that I do not like Mister Forster; I am sure he is a fine young man and if I had the chance or desire to know him better, I'm sure we would get along. I would just rather enjoy Lily's company and intellect without having to be present for her intimate encounters with him.

"Hey, Lils." He tried to kiss her but she turned her face and he ended up kissing her cheek instead. "Coming up to the stands?"

"I said I'd be there," she said. "Now go save us seats so we can get a good view this time!"

Mister Forster shrugged and nodded at me, and went off to do as Lily bade him.

"Perhaps next time," I suggested, and she gave me a wry smile.

"Sure thing. See you later, Lorcan. Library tonight?"

"It would be my pleasure."

We parted ways, and I located Albus, Scorpius and Rose in the Ravenclaw stand just in time to catch the pre-game pep talks. (Rose often joins us for Quidditch matches when Gryffindor is not against our House, so this way we may all cheer for Lysander together. I am sure he appreciates the gesture.) Watching Terrence Trent inspire the Gryffindor Quidditch team is always entertaining. "If you don't get out there on that pitch and die for something, then I will kill you for nothing!"

Little wonder he and my brother get along so well.

I truly did try my hardest to pay attention to the game, and I did in fact cheer my brother on. I hear he scored most of the points for Gryffindor.

Halfway through the game there was a scuffling under my seat, so I bent down and stuck my head through the wooden slats to see Hugo and Samael Glyde lurking beneath, clearly on a mission. "Hello, Hugo Martin. Samael," I said, and they yelped and jumped in surprise.

"Lorcan! I didn't know it was you," Hugo said.

"I'd hardly expect you to be able to distinguish one behind from another, although mine is nicely sculpted."

"Uh."

"I hope it's not too cold down there for you."

"It is a bit," Hugo admitted. "But that's only because I can't get my heater to work."

He lifted up one of his magic-infused Muggle inventions.

"You  _could_  just enchant a flame inside a glass jar, you know," Samael grumbled, rubbing his gloves together.

"But that's not what I'm experimenting with, Sam!"

"I shouldn't have to freeze so you can play with Muggle shit!"

"Have you checked the batteries, Hugo?" I asked, swiftly interrupting another argument. I fear the two boys have not been getting along well this year.

Hugo opened the back of his hand-held heater. "Oh."

Samael scowled again. " _Now_  can I warm myself up?"

The crowd cheered as someone made a score. I attributed it to my brother so I would not be in trouble later if he asked if I'd been watching (which he did). "Good luck, boys. Although if I may, I doubt you will find GossipGhost out here. There is little gossip material worth publishing during a Quidditch game unless you find yourself lost and happen across a passionate couple having sexual intercourse under the stands."

"That was oddly specific, Lorcan."

"It was one of the more puzzling days of my first year."

"Explains a lot," Samael muttered, and Hugo kicked him.

"Yeah, okay, we'll hunt around some other place. Say,  _you_  wouldn't happen to know anything, would you?"

By this stage the blood was beginning to rush to my head from being upside down for so long. "I'm afraid not, Hugo Martin. But perhaps converse with the portraits? I find their observations very useful." Except for the odd one or two who start up conversations with me and expect me to know what they're talking about when I'd never spoken to them before. They are some of the older portraits, at least four hundred years old, and I suspect they probably need to be touched up.

"Thanks, Lorcan. See you 'round."

When I resurfaced the game was over, but Lysander gave me a second-by-second rundown of it afterwards anyway. I quite feel as though I'd watched it all myself.

* * *

Posted on the general Hogwarts noticeboard:

_\- Spotted: Two lions in the greenhouse_ again _. Keep the roaring down this time, guys – the potions classroom hasn't recovered from that last little love triangle meltdown…_

 _\- Oh, Z. Z, Z, Z. We need to have a talk about your little displays of affection, darling. It's impressive, I'll admit, but if you set fire to the rain one more time, I think K'll just throw you into the lake. You don't want to spend your OWLs rolling in the deep now, do you? Work on something more subtle, like a lovesong – the sky won't fall if you do. And don't blush so, we all_ know _it was you._

* * *

_Entry by Lorcan Scamander_

_December 20, 2023_

This entry shall be succinct; I have time only to record my conversation with Lily this afternoon, as we are on our way to contain a minor incident. She has paused now to change her robe – the one she was wearing has been shredded by Cornish pixies.

It is our second-last day of term, so no classes were held today and I spent the afternoon escaping the terribly awkward tension between Albus and Scorpius in the dormitory. My escape usually ends up in the library, however, which was where Lily found me not too long ago.

"Lorcan! Hi." She sat down opposite me. I took note of her shredded robe and untamed hair but as I do consider myself to be a gentleman, I made no comment; I assume she was already aware of her haggard appearance.

"Good afternoon, Lily. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

She strummed her fingers on the desk. "Just… wondering if you'd be able to help me with something?"

"Of course. Is it pressing?"

"Uh… possibly, but not necessarily?"

I know her well enough by now to know that definitely meant  _yes_. But there's never any need to panic, so I said, "Well, why don't you take a seat and tell me about it, then?"

She did so. "So, uh… remember when I was in second year, and I found a bunch of Cornish pixies breeding in an abandoned classroom and I cast an experimental spell on them?"

"I'm afraid I do not recall the event."

Lily laughed uneasily. "Right, yeah. Because it was… secret and I kind of didn't tell anyone." She rubbed the back of her neck. "Well, I cast a spell I'd designed on them."

I believe I've mentioned already the sheer genius of Lily Luna Potter. Inventing and designing spells at the age of twelve, and casting them! (She also failed several of her exams that year, I remember, but that is not what is important.) I sat forward in interest. "Might I ask which spell?"

"Well, I  _thought_  it was a time-displacement spell." She shrugged. "The pixies sort of… vanished. So I thought the spell didn't work, right?"

I nodded and patiently waited for her to continue.

She bit her lip and said, "As it turns out, I… sent them to now. As in, today. They, uh. Came back."

"The spell worked?" I exclaimed.

"That's not the point, Lorcan!" she cried, then paused and reconsidered. "Okay, so maybe it  _is_  part of the point and I'm going to try the spell again as soon as I clean up this mess, but the main point is, I've trapped them in one of the broom closets so they don't escape and I need your help to get rid of them because they are some  _seriously_  unhappy pixies."

I told her I would of course help her. "Out of curiosity, Lily," I added idly as we hastily made our way down, "how many pixies  _are_  there?"

"Oh," she said vaguely, "just… just a couple. Not many."

I suspect she will return any second now with a non-shredded robe. I will end this entry here; some Cornish pixies await us.

* * *

_Entry by James Sirius Potter_

_December 21, 2023_

First things first: I legitimately have no idea how I ended up with Lorcan's journal.

Secondly: I also legitimately have no idea how my History of Magic class turned into a small battlefield yesterday, but I think it's how I got Lorcan's diary. Sorry, Lorcan. I'll do the best recounting I can on your behalf.

Thirdly:  _Holy shit_ , Lorcan, don't ever let Albus or Scorpius or Rose see this. Okay? Also, I had no idea you were such a snarky bastard, good for you.

So, now that that's out of the way:

Yesterday was about as normal as things get around Hogwarts. I get to call the teachers by their first names now! It's absurdly awesome. Feels a bit weird but I'll get used to it. After Neville – yeah, that's right, I can call him by his first name again – passed by to chat with me about some end-of-term class stuff, Hugo knocked on my door and came into my classroom.

"Hey James," Hugo said. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure you can. But it's Professor Potter during school hours, Hugo," I added, because I'm a teacher now, yo.

Hugo looked dubious. "Are you even a  _real_  teacher?"

Kids these days ain't got no respect. "Oh ye of little faith. I sit at the teacher's table. Isn't that enough?"

"No-one invited you up there."

"I signed a contract." At the beginning of the term. "So it's 'Professor Potter' to you, young man." I jumped up onto my desk and crossed my legs. "Now, what can I do you for?"

"Well, I was wondering if by any chance you'd have in your possession a particular item of enchanted clothing in the shape of a cloak that makes the wearer invisible that you might lend to me so I can sneak out at night? It may or may not be a Potter family heirloom."

I blinked. "That was… specific."

Hugo waited.

"The answer is no."

"I'm your cousin!"

"Oh, well, in that case, let me think about tha- no."

"Come on, James!"

"Uh, uh, uh!"

He rolled his eyes. "Come on, Professor Potter."

"No can do, Hugo, you get into enough trouble on your own without an Invisibility Cloak as it is!"

"But this is for the greater good!"

"That's cute, Hugo." I ruffled his hair. He's fourteen and gangly and tall now so it didn't really work like it used to; he ducked out of the way and scowled at me. "Answer is still no. Now run along and keep packing up your stuff. I'm not finished here, but I'll be with you on the train tomorrow –"

Before I could finish, Lily burst into the classroom as well. I felt very popular. She looked out-of-breath and a tiny bit panicked. "James!"

"Lily, what's wrong?" I said, immediately concerned because I'm her big brother and it's my job to be concerned.

"Do you remember when I was experimenting with time travel and creating spells on a horde of Cornish pixies?"

"No," I said. "That must have been one of your more secret projects."

"Oh." She bit her lip. "Well, it was… a few years ago, and they sort of… disappeared."

"Disappeared to where?"

"To… now?"

I didn't get a chance to reply because Lorcan, half of Gryffindor, Morgan Morgenstern, Antonius Otterburn, Neville, and an army of Cornish pixies burst through my door.

"Lily…" I warned, and Hugo let out a whoop and helped Morgan turn a table over to use as a barricade against the pixies.

"For Hogwarts!"

"Get down, Weasley!" Morgan snapped.

"Please don't tell Mum and Dad!" Lily begged me, and dived behind an upturned table to join in the battle with Lorcan.

And that was how my classroom turned into a minor warzone, and I think that's how Lorcan's diary got mixed up with my stuff.

_Later_

So I didn't realise I had Lorcan's diary mixed up in my bag (which is covered in pixie crap now, thanks a bunch, Lily) until I got home several hours ago today. Took a break just now from my recount to eat dinner and explain to Mum that the Cornish pixies must have been breeding in an abandoned classroom, no, Lily didn't have anything to do with it this time… (You owe me, Lily!)

The Cornish pixie siege lasted the night. By morning, we weary warriors staggered from the battlefield, shaken and traumatised. We will never truly recover from our ordeal. My poor classroom.

On the plus side, I think I just got inspiration! Let's see how boring my students think the Goblin Rebellions are now when I make them build barricades in the hallways. Mwhahahaha.

Anyway. We finally got the pixie situation under control, although by the end of it Hufflepuff, half of Slytherin, and most of the staff joined in as well. It ended on a real whimper; the last pixie went down, everyone sort of stopped and stared at each other, and shrugged and went off to collect their trunks and made their way to the Hogwarts Express, and that was the end of the Great Hogwarts Cornish Pixie War of 2023.

I didn't grab Lily on her way out, but that's okay, because I  _know where she lives._

I wasn't going to write this part down because Lorcan was there for it, but hey, it's either this or marking student essays and I don't feel like doing that tonight. So. As a teacher, I get to patrol the Hogwarts Express. Kind of like the Head Boy or a Prefect, except I get to boss them around as well. I  _love_  being a teacher. The ride was pretty eventless, thought I noticed Albus and Scorpius sat in different compartments. Looks like Rose is  _still_  bullying Scorpius into going out with her. But seriously, what for? She's made Lysander more than jealous, if you ask me, so she doesn't need to keep driving a wedge between Al and Scorpius. Also, if she doesn't break up with Malfoy soon, I'm going to lose my mid-February bet. And then my June bet for her and Lysander.

Blimey. The only one of that lot not involved in a "shipping" bet is Lorcan, and that's just because everyone assumes he's asexual. (It's nothing to be ashamed of Lorcan, I promise.)

I'll be staying back at home for the short Christmas break, so I waited with my brethren on Platform 9 ¾ for our respective families to collect us. Well, collect  _them_. I can Apparate now. Hah. Luna and Mr Scamander came to say hello to everyone, and I got to hold Hadrian for a while – he seemed to think my hair was a great thing to chew on. The interesting part was when we were all ready to part ways: Scorpius came up to Albus to say goodbye.

"See you over Christmas, Al?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Albus grumbled.

I guess the Christmas spirit hasn't taken hold of Al yet.

Scorpius didn't look happy with this response, so he turned around and went back to his family.

On the  _other_  side of me, Rose was bullying Lysander.

"Well?" she demanded, expecting him to confess his love for her and ask her out. At least that's what  _I_  was expecting.

Lysander shrugged awkwardly. "Well, I… I guess I'll see you over Christmas?"

Rose didn't look impressed. "Yeah, see you then, Lysander."

Then she turned around and walked up to Scorpius, grabbed his tie, and – I shit you not – hauled him in for a kiss in front of  _everyone_.

And Scorpius  _kissed her back_. Like, actually full-on kissed back instead of just standing there and passively receiving her tongue. In front of his dad and Muggle stepmother, and in front of Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione, and in front of Albus and Lysander and Lorcan.

Good grief, Al's face was  _hilarious_. He looked like someone was squeezing his balls in a vice.

When they finally stopped snogging, Rose turned around and glared at Lysander, and Scorpius looked over Rose's shoulder to glare at Albus. Then they walked off.

The parents were all sort of stunned into horrified silence.

"What do you suppose actually goes  _on_  at that school, anyway?" Dad finally asked out loud, totally bewildered.

"Education, I guess, since you don't go there any more," Mr Malfoy replied, and earned himself a kick in the shin from Uncle Ron.

So now Albus is sulking harder than ever and it's driving me insane, and I'm going to have to think of a favour to collect from Lily for covering for her about the pixies – otherwise she really  _would_  have been expelled.

Gotta love my family.

Merry Christmas, Lorcan! I'm sure I'll be seeing you at the dinner. I'll give this back to you then.

* * *

Posted on the general Hogwarts noticeboard:

_Such an exciting end to the term! Tables turning everywhere, and I don't just mean on those pesky pixies…_

_\- Spotted: Two staff members having an…_ interesting _discussion. We name no names, but rumour has it these tête-à-têtes_ _are more common than you'd think. The only question is – do their_ wives _know?_

 _\- My spies tell me a certain couple got up to some_ scandalous _antics at the platform last week. To all participants involved, I have only this to say: you people are ridiculous._

 _Such a shame our little soap opera hasn't much progressed, though the tenacity of our new power couple is surprising everyone! One could almost suspect… but no._ Surely _their love is nothing but pure and true?_

_Have a delicious Christmas, my darling scandal-mongers, and hurry back soon – I'll be waiting._

_xoxo GossipGhost_

* * *

  
  
**Chapter 5: from the not-so-private journal of Lorcan Scamander IV**

_Entry by Lily Luna Potter_

_December 30, 2023_

Oh. My.  _God_. This is incredible. I mean, James is right, Lorcan: don't  _ever_  let Rose or Al or Scorpius see this. But this is amazing. Just when I thought you'd run out of ways to surprise me…

I mean, yeah, at  _first_  when I nicked this out of James' bag I thought this was a very odd, quirky, handwritten novel by him, but then halfway through the first entry I realised it was your journal! Good thing I did, too, otherwise I'd have kept on reading. And possibly annotated it with snarky commentary. Don't worry, I didn't read much of it – just skimmed the pages. Why are there cocks drawn on some of the pages?

I guess this is why you hunted around James' room for hours on Christmas after dinner, then – to get your journal back? Oops. Sorry. I really thought I was stealing something of James' to make fun of. Although I guess if I want to find something emo and dramatic to make fun of, I'll have to go through Albus' room and find his angsty poetry. James is far too upbeat to make fun of. (I think he's  _serious_  about the barricade stuff!)

Anyway, not to worry. I'll be seeing you in a few days anyway at the Platform – I have to return  _Infinitisms of the Temporal Dimension_  to you so I'll give you your journal then as well. And in the meantime I might as well fill in the gaps for you to save you an entry of recounts. Also because I'm stuck on my latest design of a three-tier Time Turner (the Arithmancy of it is all unbalanced) and I'm bored. (OWLs? What OWLs?)

So… I don't actually keep a journal, so I'm not sure what to write on your behalf. I guess I'll pick up from the Christmas dinner? Geeze, those things have gotten big. I remember when I was only nine or ten and the dinners were limited to my parents and my Mum's family and all five thousand of my red-haired cousins. And then your family started joining us, Lorcan, and then the Malfoys as well, and then Mr Malfoy got married and had another kid. I mean, it's great fun, but there are  _so many people_  there I never know who to talk to or what to talk about other than how many exams I've failed. I hope you didn't mind me hanging around you all night and talking your ears off about my "independent study", ahem.

Anyway. Christmas dinner. Us "kids" were given our own table this time, so that the main table(s) could accommodate all of the adults. Personally I think the parents just do it so they can watch the teenage drama unfolding from a safe distance. Anyway, halfway through dessert, you – okay, this weird. Do I talk about you in the second person or the third person when I'm writing about you in your own journal? This is so awkward. You. You pulled out a fan. An actual, honest-to-goodness fan, complete with a floral design on it, and started fanning yourself in between servings of ice cream and fruitcake. I'm sure it had nothing at all to do with Lysander moping at Rose and Scorpius and making our side of the table really depressive.

It took him a while to notice. "Lorcan," he finally said, turning his head to stare at it, "is that a fan?"

"It is," you said, and offered no further explanation.

"…Okay.  _Why_  do you have a fan?"

"I find it indescribably useful. It is pleasant way of keeping oneself cool, you see."

"It's snowing outside."

"And it is quite warm in here."

Which… yeah, it was. I couldn't argue with that.

Lysander stared some more. "You look like a twat."

"I do try."

Lysander rolled his eyes and tried to snatch the fan out of your hands, but failed and ended up with his elbow in the butter. He thankfully didn't go back to staring wistfully at Rose – instead he faced James and pretended to engage in a discussion about the Goblin Rebellions. I was watching you, you know – you  _totally_  smiled.

I also noticed you put the fan away after that, but didn't hide it. I'm willing to bet that the next time I see Lysander, he'll be trying to flush the fan down a toilet. Better stock up, Lorcan.

"Oh, Lorcan!" James said a few minutes later, as if just noticing you were there. To be fair, James  _had_  been distracted by explaining his class plans to anyone who would listen (which turned out to be the whole table because of how loud his voice was) and it  _was_  a pretty full table. "I just remembered. I have your journal! It's covered in pixie shit, sorry."

Lysander stood up and pointed at you. "Ha, see!" he crowed. "It wasn't me this time, you pretentious twat! You spent the last three days accusing me of taking it, and it wasn't me!"

He sounded happier about this than the situation merited, if you ask me. You sighed crossed your arms. "And now I suppose you'd like me to apologise?"

"I'd like that a lot, actually, thanks."

"I apologise for assuming it was you who took my journal, even though it seemed a logical assumption considering you have taken it at least twelve times in the last three months."

Lysander scowled. "Okay, Lorcan, we need to work on your apology skills."

So, let me know how that goes.

More dessert happened, and while you discussed classwork with Albus, I had the chance to talk to Rose. "So, Rose," I asked when Scorpius left the table to go to the bathroom. "How are studies going?"

She'd just taken an absurdly large mouthful of food, so she glared at me and had to chew for a good thirty seconds before she could answer. "They're going pretty well, thanks," she said, "Arithamancy is painfully difficult and there's so much to do, but…"

I nodded and let her ramble on about her subjects and NEWTs for a while, then thought of something else to ask. "So, you and Scorpius, huh?"

She rolled her eyes. I could tell she was getting very tired of people asking her that, but I have no sympathy for her – if she didn't want people asking, she shouldn't have bullied him into dating her. "Yes, me and Scorpius," she said. "Is there a problem with that?"

"No, not at all. Just… surprising, is all." I was silent for a moment, then asked, "So it wouldn't have anything to do with Lysander being an oblivion, would it?"

Rose had her mouth full of food again. The  _look_  she gave me, Merlin! She swallowed with difficulty and snapped, "Oh my God, Lily, stop  _doing_  that!"

"What? Just talk with your mouth full, no-one will judge you."

"I, unlike  _some_ , are civilised at the dinner table."

Hence why she locked lips with Scorpius barely ten minutes later when he got back, and it didn't escape my attention that she didn't answer the question either. I mean, yeah, she's best friends with Scorpius and all but it just doesn't seem right, those two. I still can't wrap my head around it. Was he even an option for her?

After that… the rest of the night went as smoothly as it could with about five hundred red-haired relatives around and my other brother brooding about Scorpius and Rose. He really just needs to get his act together and ask Scorpius out. Or take up death-defying stunts like Lysander. Actually, I noticed your brother recently came into possession of hang glider. Was that… wise, of Luna, to give him that for Christmas?

_Later (December 31, 2023)_

I just happened to overhear the most  _interesting_  conversation. I mean, yeah, technically it was a private confidential conversation, and technically a Silencing Charm was up, and _technically_  I could be given a warning from and/or arrested by the Ministry for spying on the Head Auror and an Unspeakable. But like I said:  _technically_. It clearly wasn't all that private if they were talking in the lounge room through the fireplace, so if they didn't want anyone accidentally listening in then they really ought to have gone someplace more secure.

Just saying.

It's a bit after midnight now, and I swear I only went downstairs for a midnight snack. Chocolate Frogs, you know? Great fuel for the mind. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. As soon as I passed the lounge room I noticed there was a Silencing Charm up. You can hear the difference between normal silence and artificial silence – like the house itself stops existing for a small section. I might have caught sight of Dad talking to Uncle Percy through the fireplace. So I… also might have taken the Silencing Charm down?

Look, it was all in the name of the greater good, I promise. You'll be interested in this.

I overheard the last part of what Dad was asking Percy: "…completed the development, yet?"

"Not yet, but we're close. The glass is almost  _perfect_. The latest experimental design is very strong – much stronger than the hourglasses of the old time turners."

"Great, keep going with it. Good luck, Percy."

I ran back to my room before Dad could turn around and notice me there. I didn't end up getting my Chocolate Frogs, but that's okay – I got something better. I got  _inspiration!_  Do you know what this means? The Ministry is also trying to remake Time Turners! But the only official studies into it have been studies of the old models – they just want to recreate what used to be. They lack the imagination to  _develop_. But us?

If the Unspeakables in the Department of Mysteries are making stronger hourglasses… Lorcan, they have incredible resources in the Department of Mysteries. If they've made an hourglass that can accommodate the time travel I envision, all that's left is for  _us_  to make a frame around it and the sand. And a whole lot of other technical stuff that you know the names to and the like.

I'm too excited to sleep now! I've been sketching like crazy – just scribbles about my designs and prototype spells – and I'll probably be up the rest of the night. But I'll be seeing you and your finely sculpted arse in a few days. Let's talk further about this! (The time travel stuff, that is. Not your finely sculpted arse.)

(Although we can if you want to, I'm not opposed to it.)

And I'm sorry about the graffiti on the next few pages.

* * *

Posted on the general Hogwarts noticeboard:

_Hogwarts students have it easy when it comes to crime and punishment. I hear over at Beauxbatons they'll give students nineteen weeks detention for stealing baguettes from the dinner table! Yeah, you guys have it easy.  
_

_But how easy is_   _too_   _easy? Some crimes often go unpunished. Lying, cheating, messing with the natural order of things… It's a new year, and it's time to 'fess up, ladies and gentlemen._   _Clean out those skeletons before I do it for you._

* * *

_Entry by Lorcan Scamander_

_January 3, 2024_

Hardy graffiti, Lily Luna – you may consider them mere sketchings but what you have drawn is an actual model of a Time Turner that, constructed with the right materials, could plausibly work. Lily, you say you almost thought I'd run out of ways to surprise you. But your mind will never cease to amaze me.

If you could refine the time-displacement spell you created – and I am not at all advocating that you pursue your independent study over your OWLs, as that would be irresponsible of me – it could feasibly be one of the core elements of a Time Turner. I must investigate the Arithmancy of this idea.

_Later_

It occurs to me that I am writing of Lily Luna in the second person, as though I am expecting her to read this entry before I see her again, which is unlikely. But the point remains – what Lily has sketched in my journal is nothing short of an artwork and a masterpiece, and quite possibly one of the most significant magical advances of this era. I believe that between the two of us – my logic and her imagination, my theoretical and philosophical understanding of the field and her sheer ingenuity – and  _Infinitisms of the Temporal Dimension_ , and the hourglass being created by the Ministry… we could, together, create a working Time Turner, something greater than anything that ever existed in the subjective past.

_Later again_

In the aftermath of discovering Lily's sketchings, I was too deeply in awe of her to record the events of the day. Lily returned my journal to me when we arrived at Hogwarts, just before the feast, but I did not have a chance to review its updated contents (thank you, James and Lily) until a few hours ago in the library.

It has been an eventful first day of term. Nothing of particular note happened until we all reached Platform 9 ¾ at more or less the same time, as per usual. The usual rituals occurred: parents told their children to behave, Hugo Martin and Miss Livia conversed in their own space, and Albus and Scorpius were quarrelling. Which, in retrospect, was not actually part of the usual ritual. They have a penchant for gentle mocking at times, but the tones of their voices this morning quickly rose to a level of intensity that made it quite clear this was a very serious argument. I fear I did not catch the beginning of it, but in regards to the content of the conversation, it is now easy to guess:

"…well maybe if you detached yourself from Rose long enough to pay attention to the people around you –!"

"If the people around me have something to say, then I suggest they say it instead of waiting and sulking!" Scorpius snapped back, and the surrounding group of friends and family members fell silent.

Albus fumed. "All right," he said tightly. "Fine. You think I didn't know?"

"Know  _what_?"

"Know why you're dating Rose?"

"Uh, she asked me out? Duh."

"Because you're a fucking coward!" Albus shouted, pushing Scorpius hard in the chest. Scorpius staggered backwards, then straightened himself and pushed Albus back.

"Oh,  _I'm_  the coward, am I?" he said, digging his finger into Albus' sternum. " _I'm_  the coward? What about you? You've spent the last three months being pathetic and moping – you think  _I_  didn't notice the way you look at m—"

I presume that last word was going to be "me" (as in, Scorpius, not myself), but he did not complete his sentence as Albus' fist collided with his jaw instead.

This was different to their other physical fights. In the past, when they wanted to hurt each other, it was with words – strategically, emotionally charged words designed to cause pain and immediately laced with regret after utterance. If they ever fought hand-to-hand, the wounds were superficial.

This fight looked very painful, and none of their hits pulled back – and it reached the point where barely a few seconds into the fight, Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy moved into break the two apart before someone's rib was broken.

"Break it up, break it up!" Mr Malfoy shouted, getting in between the two quarrelling friends and hauling his son off Albus. Mr Potter pulled Albus up, holding him back from Scorpius. Both boys had bruised eyes and cut lips, but thanks to the fast responses of their respective parents they were not injured terribly seriously. They'll both be quite sore for the next few days, but otherwise no lasting harm done. (Physically, that is – I suspect I will be made their passive-aggressive messenger for the foreseeable future.)

"What's going on?" Mr Potter demanded.

"Nothing," Albus spat, and jerked out of his father's hold and stalked off onto the Hogwarts Express.

"Scorpius?" Mr Malfoy asked him, and Scorpius shook his head and went onto the train as well – a completely different carriage – after shooting off a vague promise to write. Their respective families were silent in either astonishment or shock, although Hadrian Malfoy seemed to find the situation rather hilarious and let his enjoyment be known in the form of laughter.

Mr Malfoy, looking utterly bewildered, turned to face his son. "Now  _you're_  not going to cause me any stress, are you, Hadrian?" he asked.

Young Hadrian giggled in his mother's arms and promised nothing of the sort.

I am sad to report that Scorpius and Albus spent the rest of the night ignoring each other and maintaining as much distance as feasibly possible. Scorpius sat at the Slytherin table with Johannes Cabal during the feast, Albus sat on the Gryffindor table with Lysander, and Rose sat with me on the Ravenclaw table in extremely guilty silence.

The ghosts and teachers seemed to be enjoying the show a little  _too_  much.

It is now after dinner and Scorpius and Albus have disrupted the entire dormitory in an admirable effort to be as far apart from each other as humanly possible while confined to the same room. I have been relocated to Scorpius' bed –  _without_  my permission, I feel compelled to mention – and Nathan Nightingale and Rowan Davies have been pushed out of their beds as well, to their audible discomfort. I had no intention of remaining there to be used as a passive-aggressive mediator, hence my decision to "haunt the library" for the rest of the evening, as Lysander describes it. I simply have to remember which bed to return to when I retire for the evening so I do not become unnecessarily intimate with Rowan by accident. Again.

I think perhaps it will soon be time to have a word with Rose, but I shall first wait and see if Albus Severus and Scorpius Hyperion reconcile on their own. I take pride in my usual non-intervention poli–  _[sentence blotted out by spilled ink]_

And I think perhaps it is also time to pay attention to Lysander, who has now stooped to the sad, low depths of sabotaging my in-progress writings so that I may help him into his hang glider harness. I despair for his future and I see no way in which his latest stunt end in absolute disaster and/or hilarity and detention. Not that I take pleasure from my brother's attempts at attention seeking. Of course not. That would be simply awful of me.

_Later again_

Oh, and in regards to my floral fan: Lysander did indeed flush it down the toilet, but he made the mistake of doing it in his  _own_  toilet and blocked the drains, and ended up with a flooded bedroom. I have no sympathy for him.

* * *

Posted on the general Hogwarts noticeboard:

_\- I don't mean to pry, but judging by the amount of mail headed for the staff table, it seems like someone's taking parent-teacher conferencing to a whole new level! And speaking of our saucy staff, I hear one of the esteemed professors had a transfiguring experience last night…_

_\- Outrage in the Owlery? Seems to be more ruffled feathers around than usual. Could our little Ravenclaw dust-up have spilled over to the pets?_

_Addendum: On further investigation, quite the opposite. At least one set of birdbrains have their heads screwed on straight._

* * *

_Entry by Lorcan Scamander_

_January 10, 2024_

I had the pleasure of bumping into Professor Longbottom this afternoon in between classes. Quite literally, I bumped into him, and I believe my book bag bruised his shoulder rather badly. I generally try not to make a habit of assaulting Professors with my luggage and I am usually much more careful, but this particular instance was because of my less than graceful attempts to side-step a fight that broke out today between two girls from my year, a Slytherin and a Hufflepuff. I  _did_  manage to avoid their altercation, but I was not so fast as to avoid the crowd of students and ghosts who converged around the girls to chant "Fight! Fight! Fight!"

It was all terribly uncivilised.

"Oh, I do apologise, Professor Longbottom," I said after I collided with him. "I hope I've not harmed you too grievously."

"Well, if you have, I'll be sure to forward the hospital bill to you," he replied, rubbing his shoulder and keeping an eye on the quarrelling girls. "How are classes going, Lorcan?"

"They are operose but gratifying."

Behind me, a portrait of a former Headmistress told me to get out of the way as I was blocking her view.

"…Right," Professor Longbottom said. "I'm glad to hear it. How's Luna going?"

I informed him that she was quite well and enjoying her winter vacation in Canada hunting for Crumple-Horned Snorkacks.

Professor Longbottom looked rather perplexed. "I thought she said they only lived in Sweden."

"She fancied a skiing trip," I explained. He looked amused by this, then asked if I was headed to class. I informed him that yes, I was – History of Magic, in fact – and he said that he'd accompany me to the room. Before he did, he took a moment aside to direct some teachers into breaking up the fight between Miss Waldorf and Miss van der Woodsen, then continued along the corridor on the way to Professor Potter's classroom.

Because of my run-in with Professor Longbottom I was a little on the tardy side of things, but James did not seem to notice as by the time we arrived at the classroom, he was already directing his students to pile the chairs and desks in a corner.

"Uh, James, a moment, please?" Professor Longbottom asked, and I joined Rose who was eyeing the pile of furniture with abject horror.

"I don't like where this is going," she said. I neither agreed nor disagreed verbally, as I doubted she was all that interested in my opinion anyway, and instead caught the conversation between our esteemed History of Magic Professor and the Deputy Headmaster.

"…it's all very interesting in theory, James, but please don't get too carried away with it."

"I won't!" James insisted. "I just think it'll be a really great and interactive way for the students to learn about the Goblin Rebellions. At least let me trial it for a few weeks?"

Professor Longbottom looked uneasy. "Only if you assure me that Cornish Pixies won't be involved."

"The Great Hogwarts Cornish Pixie War of 2023 is a devastating chapter of our history, but it is now long in the past, and there is a new life about to start when tomorrow comes," James said solemnly and started pushing him towards the door.

"That's… practically the exact opposite of what I asked –"

"Leave it all to me, Neville, I know  _exactly_  what I'm doing."

"But you didn't promise you'd –"

"Say no more! Just trust me, and allow me to enrich the minds of my students."

"James –"

"Thank you, Deputy Headmaster!"

" _You're not even a real teacher, James_  –"

James closed the door on him and turned around to sternly face his bemused students. "I sit at the teacher's table. Does anyone else here want to challenge my authority?"

My peers all shook their heads.

"Excellent! Now, help me pile the tables up along this side of the room, won't you?"

We all obliged.

* * *

Posted on the general Hogwarts noticeboard:

_\- Another term, another catfight. Seems like our Queen of Green has finally discovered what happens when you poke a sleeping badger. Well, that's what you get for stealing her man, B!_

_\- Spotted: A series of charming little love notes, all for me! Seems like some of the firsties still haven't grasped the way things run around here. "Ghostbusters" indeed. You guys should take some lessons from little H – he's sweet, discreet, and going nowhere fast. Shame about the company he keeps._

* * *

_Entry by Lorcan Scamander_

_January 17, 2024_

That was a highly enlightening evening.

After a long day of classes and tests (nothing in particular worth recording, except perhaps the sudden headache I received that stopped me from attending my History of Magic class) – and at least a collective hour spent navigating my way through three corridors' worth of Goblin Rebellion reinactment barricades – I returned to the Ravenclaw door to rest for the remainder of the day. At that was intention, at least; my day-to-day plans are in general quite flexible.

Upon arriving the entrance – this was just after dinner, but an hour or so before curfew – I discovered Albus Severus had set up camp outside in the corridor, with his textbooks and essays spread around him. He looked very uncomfortable.

"Good evening, Albus Severus."

He looked up and sighed in relief. "Lorcan, thank  _Merlin_  you're here. I couldn't get in," he admitted, "and almost everyone's inside now. Can you help me get in?"

"Of course I can," I said. "You will no doubt find the tables a more comfortable place to study."

He stretched his arms and something audibly cracked. "You can say that again," he muttered. "You want to join me?"

I almost said yes, but I changed my mind at the last moment. "Perhaps another time, Albus Severus. I have an errand to run."

"'Kay."

I knocked on the door.

"What occurs once in every minute, twice in every moment, yet never in a thousand years?" the eagle doorknob asked.

Whilst it would have been lovely to philosophise with the door, Albus looked very miserable on the ground on his own. (I doubt either of us would have minded so much if he had Scorpius Hyperion to keep him company.) I pondered the door's question for a moment, then responded, "The letter  _m_."

"Well reasoned," the eagle replied, and the door opened. Let it never be said I am not altruistic.

"Oh, come on!" Albus cried, roughly gathering and shoving his papers and books into his bag. I heard at least one inkpot shatter in there. "Are you fucking  _kidding me_? The letter  _m_?! Why the hell am I even  _in_  Ravenclaw? Merlin's saggy left testicle –!"

I did not interrupt his rant, nor did I enter the Ravenclaw Common Room with him. I instead parted ways with him and made my way to run the aforementioned errand, which culminated in me arriving at a particular favourite empty classroom of Rose Victoria. I happened to pass Hugo Martin on the way, with an unwilling Samael Glyde in tow – "Still searching for GossipGhost, Hugo Martin?" I asked. "We've got a lead!" he replied, then tore off down the corridor – and I expect them to be losing at least a hundred points apiece by tomorrow morning for being out of bed after curfew. It will bring Hugo Martin's lost-points tally to 570. Not that I am maintaining a record.

Rose often spends her spare time in this unused classroom when her cousin and best friend fight, to escape the soured territory of both Gryffindor and Ravenclaw – but she has also been known to take refuge there when feeling largely responsible for something.

"You've been oddly quiet as of late, Rose Victoria," I said as per introducing my presence. She jumped and faced me, and her expression went from brief hopefulness to its recent glumness.

"Oh, Lorcan. I – I thought you were Lysander for a moment," she explained.

I did not take it personally. I nodded instead and walked around her, admiring the view of the lake. Lysander was not at that time canoeing in it, nor was he swimming, which leads me to believe he was probably breaking into the Quidditch supplies to surf a Bludger. (It reportedly did not end well for him.) "Yes, people often confuse us, hence my distinct haircut."

"I thought Lysander just cut your hair while you were sleeping," Rose said.

"He did, but I maintained the style. It's rather dashing, don't you think?"

"…That's not really the word I'd have used, but okay."

She fell silent again and I sat down beside her. "I'm surprised you are not studying," I said, as it was in fact peculiar to see her without a book of some sort.

Rose shrugged. "It's hard to study when your two best friends are fighting."

"Indeed," I agreed. "I think your 'feelings' for Scorpius has become something of a point of conflict for the three of you."

Rose chewed anxiously on her lower lip, looking very much like her mother in that moment.

"Or perhaps," I continued, "you, like my brother, are quite unwise with your betting choices."

She took one more look at me and moaned, covering her face with her hands. "Okay, yes!" she cried, sounding very pained. "I don't have romantic feelings for Scorpius at all, I only asked him out because I knew it would make Lysander jealous, and – and because…" She winced very guiltily. "Because I knew Score and Al were getting far too close over the summer holidays and I might have put a decent amount on the first week of May for them!"

Ah, money. The best motivator, and the greatest corrupter.

"I couldn't risk them getting together before then!" Rose kept on going. "And now I've completely ruined our friendships and they're not talking to each other at all because they're just so stupidly in love with each other and I was more interested in a stupid betting pool than helping them be together."

I nodded. "Yes, I thought it was something like that."

"I'm a  _horrible_  friend!" she wailed, and started to cry.

I patted her back in an attempt to console her.

"You won't tell them, will you?" she begged tearfully, although I do have to wonder how much of her emotions were due to her own self-pity and how much was due to the general stresses of our NEWTs year.

"I will not," I promised her, "but I strongly recommend you say something to them yourself."

"She doesn't have to," came Scorpius' voice from the entrance, and Rose and myself jumped, a little startled.

"Scorpius, you creep, what are you doing here?" Rose snapped, standing up hurriedly to round on him.

He stared at her and walked forward. "…I came to break up with you, actually."

Rose blinked. "…Oh." She swallowed, glanced at me – I offered no moral support, true to my strict non-intervention policy – and said, "How – how much did you hear?"

"All of it."

"Oh," she said again, and Scorpius sighed heavily and walked closer to her.

"Look, I'm not angry. I was, but I'm just – not angry anymore, not really. I'm  _upset_  and I can't believe you'd do this to me. To  _Albus_."

"I'm sorry," she whispered. He shook his head and sighed again.

"Rose, I – I can't stand fighting with Albus like this." He pressed his lips together and took a deep breath, as if preparing himself for an important announcement. "I'm… I'm in love with him. I've been in love with him for  _years_ , but –"

"I know," Rose interrupted.

Scorpius faltered at her bluntness and unswayed emotions in response to the beginning of his speech, but made a valiant effort to continue. "But I didn't admit to myself because I was… scared, you know?"

"Yes, I know," Rose said bluntly again, and this time he crossed his arms.

"Rose, I'm trying to come out of the closet here."

She finally caught on. "Oh!" she cried, and put on the appropriate emotional expression. "Oh. Sorry. Please continue."

Scorpius continued. I do not believe it would be appropriate of me to record the entirety of Scorpius' "coming out" speech in this journal, as it seems capable of practically jumping into the hands of anyone who passes by. I will merely state that it was a very stirring, emotional speech for him, and afterwards Rose was hugging him very tightly and assuring him that Mr Malfoy would not be unaccepting of his son's sexuality.

After he'd cleaned himself up and Rose had offered him a Cockroach Cluster (politely declined), Scorpius frowned and said, "Say… how much would you stand to lose, if I went to Albus now and talked to him and we made up in the next few days instead of May?"

Rose winced. "A lot, but I guess it's nothing less than what I deserve. Why?"

He ignored the question. "Right. And how much would you stand to  _win_  if Albus and I did get together at the beginning of May?"

Rose bit her lower lip again. "Enough to make a profit of over two hundred galleons?" she admitted.

Scorpius' mouth stretched to a sly grin. "Well," he said. "Rose Weasley. Let's say that I will not break up with you until the end of April – on the condition that we bring Albus in on this, and you split the final cut three ways."

Rose stared at him, then grinned at him, and the two looked as thick as thieves. "Deal."

They shook on it.

"Just one more thing," Scorpius said. "What about Lysander?"

Rose huffed. (By this stage, I believe they'd both completely forgotten my presence in the room.) "Lysander had all of last year and the year before that to pay attention, and you know what? I asked him out  _three times_ , and he barely noticed each time. So if he wants to ask me out, he should just grow a pair and  _ask_  me out instead of jumping off the Astronomy Tower!"

Scorpius laughed. "Right, well. Until he grows a pair, I am… not opposed to maintaining a romantic relationship with you." He paused and tilted his head. "After all, you're… not a bad kisser."

"You're not so bad, either," Rose allowed, and they looked at each other.

"Well…" Scorpius shrugged. "Wanna do it again?"

She blinked. "…Sure."

I decided it would be impertinent of me to stay for the show. I departed the room and left the two to their unethical rigging of very serious stakes, and I was informed by both the Bloody Baron and Nearly Headless Nick to carry a small white flag with me if I intended to venture through the barricades.

Well, that escalated quickly.

* * *

Posted on the general Hogwarts noticeboard:

_\- Spotted : A heart-to-heart that's long overdue. Clearly, the path of true love only runs smooth when paved with gold._

_\- They say there's some strange things in the Forbidden Forest, but by far the strangest has to be the pile of school robes left among the trees last night. Talk about House unity!_

_\- There's nothing sadder than the sight of a once-proud lion with no hope left to him. I know he never had much spine to start with, but hasn't he been punished enough?_

_\- Hey there, Little H. Still looking for me? That was a nice try, but you're going to have to work a little harder than that! But that's what you're good at, isn't it? You try so hard, and make so many messes… isn't it time to give up?_

_xoxo GossipGhost_

* * *

  
  
**Chapter 6: from the not-so-private journal of Lorcan Scamander V**   
  
  


_Entry by Lorcan Scamander_

_February 2, 2024_

Bizarrely, today's Transfiguration class was held in Professor Morgenstern's personal chambers instead of the usual classroom, due to the area now being official "Goblin" territory. Professor Morgenstern did not look impressed, and most of us could tell that he'd had a hard time of making enough room for us all, having pushed his work desk and his cupboard far up against the wall and piled his trunks on top of his bed.

"This is only until I can secure a new classroom – one that has  _not_  been overrun by Potter's barricades."

Mary Collins from Hufflepuff raised her hand. "Can… can Professor Potter actually  _do_  that?" she asked.

"He's not a real teacher," Professor Morgenstern snapped, as though that answered Mary's legitimate enquiry. (I do distinctly remember James boasting about a contract he signed at the beginning of the school year, however.) "Now open up your textbooks. No wandwork today while my personal possessions are around. Cabal, get back to your seat and don't touch that trunk!"

It was a rather sober lesson. Rose spent most of it fuming and passive-aggressively flicking through her textbook, clearly displeased with the accommodations. Professor Morgenstern, due to his stressed state, started teaching us the class content from a week prior. No-one corrected him, and he only realised himself once we were twenty minutes into the lesson. He stopped and glared around at all of us. "I wondered why you were all suddenly geniuses," he said, scowling.

Scorpius looked quite affronted.

Professor Otterburn entered the room unannounced halfway through the lesson, and looked startled to see us all there. "What, uh –" he said, glancing around. I waved at him, but I don't think he noticed.

"My classroom," Morgenstern explained tightly, "has been transformed into a base as part of the Goblin Rebellion reinactments, so I'm holding lessons in here. What do you want?"

Professor Otterburn's eyes flicked over to the cupboard. "…Nothing. Just… thought I might have left something here last time I – I'll come back later." He nodded at all of us. "Good day, students."

He left, presumably to race down to his own classroom to see if the Goblin Rebellions had overtaken his territory as well. I do hope they aren't – and if they are, then Professor Otterburn will be finding it quite difficult to teach his various Defence Against the Dark Arts classes in his personal chambers as well. I'm led to believe that is his only place of residence left since his wife sadly left him.

Professor Morgenstern dismissed us early from Transfiguration, although I suspect that had less to do with the kindness of his heart and more to do with Terrence Trent setting the curtains on fire.

_Later_

I hope Scorpius Hyperion and Rose Victoria bring Albus in on their little arrangement soon. They've clearly been holding off, as Albus didn't speak to them at all today during classes, and he spent lunch and dinner with Hugo on the Hufflepuff table, and hid in the Owlery for the evening. I know this last part because of two reasons: Lysander told me he'd seen Albus doing his homework there while attempting to scale the roof, and I caught Albus trying to scrub owl faeces off the hem of his robe in the bathroom, grumbling something about Scorpius "not even being an option for Rose".

* * *

Posted on the general Hogwarts noticeboard:

_\- Spotted: A fascinating debate between two brilliant academic minds about the pros and cons of various privacy spells. Funny how much that resembles wrestling in a blanket fort. Our reaction? O. M. Gee!_

_\- They say a Ravenclaw will do anything for extra credit, but aren't those only supposed to be_ mock _trials?_ Someone's _holding a grudge..._

-  _I'd be lying if I said the Prefect's bathroom has always been used with pure intentions, but after last night's unauthorised escapade I doubt it'll ever be the same again. On a related note, could the owner of the blue… recreation device please apply to Moaning Myrtle? She doesn't have the item itself, but she's got a_ lot _of questions…_

* * *

_Entry by Lorcan Scamander_

_February 10, 2024_

This morning's events were quite intriguing. I am not entirely sure I should be recording them, as my journal has a bad habit of disappearing into the hands of other people on a frequent basis, but as it has remained within my possession for a month I see no harm in recording this next part.

I was innocently reading in bed, my alarm for the morning not having gone off yet. Nathan and Rowan were already long gone from the dorm to pursue their Quidditch interests, leaving Scorpius and Albus in blissful passive-aggressive silence. Albus was doing his best to sleep in as late as possible without missing breakfast, and had gone so far as to cover his head with a few pillows in an effort to ignore Scorpius' company in the room.

As I was reading, I noticed Rose enter the dorm – and share a glance with Scorpius that can only be described as  _mischievous_. They both were ignorant to my presence as together they crept up to Albus' bed, and sat down on either side of him. He made a muffled sound of surprise and battled the pillows over his head to see what was going on.

He groaned. "What do you want?" he grumbled, and Rose grinned.

"That's no way to greet me, Al."

He rolled his eyes, shot a dirty look at Scorpius – who was only smiling back – and tried to put his pillows back over his head.

Rose and Scorpius hindered this attempt, and there was a slight kerfuffle over it.

Finally Albus' patience snapped, and he said, "Go  _away_ , you two –!"

Scorpius silenced him by kissing him. (Admittedly, I at first thought he was attempting mouth-to-mouth resuscitation or trying to suffocate him, both of which confused me as Albus was not struggling for breath, nor had he done anything that I know of to warrant murder.) Whatever Scorpius was trying to do, he accomplished it: Albus fell silent, and stared at Scorpius when he drew back.

"…Um. Okay. I'm… I'm listening," he said weakly, and Scorpius grinned.

I shan't do them the disservice of recording the entire conversation in my journal. I will, however, record this:

"…so, Rose is sorry, but – if you want – we could be up for some pretty good money."

Albus seemed to be having a bit of trouble contemplating all of this.

"So," he said, trying to catch up, "Rose has  _never_  been interested in you?"

"Well," Scorpius said, but Rose snorted and said, "Oh, please, me interested in  _him_?"

"Hey," Scorpius protested weakly, and Rose ignored him.

"No," she insisted. "I'm sorry, Al. I just – I saw how close you two were getting over the summer holidays and I'd made my bet last year, and I couldn't risk losing that much money."

"And… Scorpius isn't interested in you."

Scorpius grinned and shook his head. "Wrong cousin."

The look he and Albus shared seemed to be touching upon some intimate waters, so I felt it necessary for me to remind them that I was still in the room. "Would you like some privacy?" I asked graciously, and the three of them yelped and swivelled around.

"Lorcan?" Scorpius cried. "What the – what are you doing here?"

"This is my bed and I've been here for most of the morning," I reminded him. "But you do realise I have been present for most, if not all, of your intimate encounters?" They stared at me. I closed my book and grabbed my bag. "Never matter. I am departing now to meet Lily Luna in the library."

(I am waiting on her now.)

None of them spoke until I was out of the dorm.

"I suppose we shouldn't mind," I heard Albus say reasonably. "He's asexual, after all. S'why he's never in the GossipGhost things – no scandal."

I am certainly above feeling offended.

Ah, here comes Lily – with her sketchbook, it seems! This shall be a most invigorating discussion.

* * *

Posted on the general Hogwarts noticeboard:

_I don't know about you guys, but the first months of a new year can be so_ dull _. Everyone's trying so hard to be good, keeping all those resolutions. Even our little soap opera has become suspiciously tame – and the bookies are starting to sweat._

_But as they say, time cures all ills, and it seems like secrets aren't the only parts of the past still catching up with us. The rude restructuring of our hallowed halls has overturned an ants nest of juicy little secrets, and as the future tiptoes nearer, who knows what might come to light?_

_I'd stay tuned if I were you._

_xoxo GossipGhost_

* * *

_Entry by Hugo Weasley_

_March 4, 2024_

Success! Well, kind of but not really but sort of. GossipGhost is Peeves! Sort of. I'll start from the start of today. I'd already crossed off a lot of people on my list (including but not limited to: Neville, James, Professor Robertson, and that painting of a cat on the third floor) but the one suspect that's remained constant for the past however many years has been Peeves. So Sam and I followed him today!

It's actually  _really hard_  to follow a Poltergeist. They're not like ghosts, right? Peeves is literally a manifestation of school kids' emotions and stuff like that. A ball of pure mischief! He can go through walls if he wants, but he can also pick up stuff and make himself unseen. So he's the most likely candidate for GG, 'cept no-one's been able to prove it yet. Until today!

We started in the old Charms room, just sort of hiding behind the desks, 'cause that's where I'd heard his voice coming from because of my stethoscope. Peeves wasn't there, though, so it was mostly a matter of waiting. The portrait behind me kept on scoffing about "kids these days" and "why aren't they in class". Honestly, it was just History of Magic – if I missed anything important, I'm sure I'll be able to pick it up again by making my way through one of the barricades.

Sam, as usual, wasn't really that enthusiastic about us going on the hunt, and kept on changing the subject. "Come on, Hugo, just ask your uncle if you can borrow his Invisibility Cloak."

"Sam, if he hasn't given it to James yet, or Al, or Lily, or Teddy, he sure as hell isn't gonna give it to me." And even if he did give it to me, I wouldn't give it to Sam to sneak around the library.

"We could hunt for GossipGhost with it," he tried. Even I'm not that gullible. Usually.

"You only want it to sneak around the Restricted Section of the library."

Sam scowled. "S'not true."

I rolled my eyes where he couldn't see it, because the last time I rolled my eyes at him he didn't talk to me for a month. He can  _really_  hold a grudge. "You don't  _need_  to go to the Restricted Section."

'Course, there's a difference between  _need_  and  _want_. He thinks he needs necromancy, but he really just has a crazy-arse obsession with it. It's kind of like when I wanted to go to a Muggle school to help Livia stop feeling so left out, except not.

"Yes, I do," he insisted.

"Sam, please," I begged. "You'll get into trouble."

"So?" he said. "You get into trouble all the time."

"It's different."

He exhaled loudly. "Of course it's different – you're the quirky Hufflepuff with the famous Gryffindor relatives, so when you blow stuff up when you're trying to make your unholy Muggle-Magical technological hybrids, you just lose points and Hufflepuff disappears for a year, and everyone just stands around looking befuddled. Me? I'm the creepy screw-up Slytherin with the dead You-Know-Who supporter parents. If I was to go off and do half the things you do, I'd be suspended and moved to another foster home and the teachers here would treat me like a criminal. I know how it works, Hugo."

Well… okay, yeah. I can see how it might look like that to him. I felt really awkward about this, but I stayed on topic. "No, I mean, it's different because I'm just trying to make things for Livia. You're  _trying to raise the dead_. It's a pretty big difference and it has nothing to do with my family or yours, and you know it."

He shrugged again. I really wanted to sock him in the jaw, but then I'd really get in trouble for that. "So, we're both trying to create stuff."

"Necromancy is outlawed for a  _reason_. There's no  _point_ , Sam –"

"No point for you, maybe! You don't have anyone to bring back!" Sam gripped his hair tightly and looked at me, a bit manically. "Hugo, I could – I could bring back my parents."

His parents were FD supporters. His grandparents were Death Eater supporters. I feel really awful for saying this, but maybe they're not the best people to bring back. It sucks for Sam that he's got no family and he's being shoved between foster homes, but bringing his dead family back isn't going to help him.

I do kind of put my foot in it sometimes, but I know when  _not_  to, and this was one of those times. Also I've put my foot in it before with Sam, and he can get really scary when he's upset with me. "It's wrong," I said instead. "No-one can, or should, bring back the dead."

" _I_  can."

I really hate it when he gets that look in his eyes. "Sam, what did you do?"

"Nothing."  _Yet_ , is what he didn't say. He glanced around and pulled off his bag, unzipped it, and withdrew a really old, really tattered copy of a paperback book. "Look, here."

I took the book obediently. "It's a Muggle book. You don't like Muggle stuff."

He snatched it back. "No,  _look_. That year you disappeared, one of Livia's letters mentioned that Muggles sort of knew about magic and that they had funny ideas about it and wrote about it in their books –"

"You  _were_  reading her letters! Sam –"

"It gave me an idea! Muggles do sort of know about magic – it's all part of their folklore, and they use it to tell stories to their kind. Not everything of theirs is based in fact, but – this is a Muggle fiction book about necromancy, and it's the best lead I've had. The plot's stupid as hell, all set in this fantasy world, but what's  _really_  interesting is this part." Sam flicked it open and pointed at the page. "There – the bells. Seven Necromantic Bells."

"Are you sure?" I said dubiously. "The book  _I_  read a few years ago seemed to be under the impression that a deal with the devil was what gave you necromantic powers."

"Fine, be that way," Sam snapped, and shoved the book back into his bag. "I know I'm on the right track. If I could find a book in the library that verifies what's in here, then – maybe I could find the Bells." He shrugged. "Or if you feel like a challenge, you could have a go at making them."

I didn't say anything to that, but he has  _got_  to be kidding.

"Sam –" I started, then stopped and shook my head and sighed. If he hasn't listened to me in four years, then he never will. "Don't get caught. I lose points, but they'll throw you out of school if you try anything."

"Don't be stupid, I'm fifteen, no-one's tossing me out of school. Permanently, anyway."

And that was the end of that. No-one can say I didn't try. After that, he refused to talk any more about it and ignored me until I changed the subject back to GG. He said he'd help me if I didn't tell the teachers he was going to sneak into the library tonight. So I said yes, because I know he's going to get caught anyway, and I like having a friend with me for investigative work. Having Livia around would be the most awesome thing ever, but… you know, maybe another year, when or if I manage to invent that wand I've sketched out some plans for.

And then finally – "Shh! It's Peeves!"

He didn't come into the room, he just sort of bounced in the air past the door, laughing about something. He usually does that, but I personally thought he was more up to something than usual. So I followed my hunch and dragged Sam after me through the corridors, and eventually along the third. It's full of empty, long-abandoned classrooms. There's this story that goes around the students: that there used to be a giant three-headed dog along the third floor and it used to guard the ancient Basilisk that kept the "Sorcerer's" Stone in its belly. (Seriously, what is this, America?)

Uncle Harry's legacy got a bit mangled over the years. It makes me laugh, and as far as I know Rose and Al and James and Lily haven't corrected anyone yet. In fact, I'm pretty sure James is the one who added an extra part about the toad-like DADA teacher with Voldemort on the back of her head who's been kept captive by the Centaurs down there for a few decades. Although I reckon he only said that to scare the first years.

…Wow, I really tend to get off track a lot. GG again. I've  _completely_  ruled out Snape's portrait as a suspect. He's a popular candidate with the students. He's a right sour arse but he has better things to be doing with his time, like secretly mentoring Albus and calling him names. Albus thinks he's being secretive when he talks to Snape's painting about potions, but Sam and I have passed him about three times this year already. I passed him again today as we made our way after Peeves, and he didn't even notice:

"…so, in regards to that Polyjuice Potion, the 48-hour one –"

"You are as impertinent and disruptive as your father!" Snape's painting snapped. "I was speaking. Take care not to interrupt me again."

"Sorry," Albus said, not sounding sorry at all.

Snape sneered. "The potion is inherently flawed in that it possesses no antidote to reverse the effects. Such a potion would be invaluable to undercover or infiltrative work, but if one was caught in a tight situation where their natural body was required, that person would be… in a rather arduous situation."

"There was no antidote to the original one-hour Polyjuice."

"Not a direct one, no; it only lasted for an hour."

"But presumably one could  _be_  created –"

And so on and so forth. I didn't stay to listen. Potions are interesting, but even  _I'm_  not such a big fan as to go to Snape for secret lessons. Eesh. Kudos to Al, I guess? At least we know what sort of career he's going to get himself after the NEWTs. Mum tells me I should start thinking seriously about my career and that "blowing up stuff" isn't a proper life choice. And – hang on, something's wrong.

…I… don't think this is my journal.

Let me check.

_Later_

Wow, okay, this is embarrassing. This isn't my journal. Sorry, Lorcan. I really have no idea how this happened.

…I'm going to finish the entry here anyway, okay? Don't worry, I didn't read anything else in here – don't have time to do that. Peeves disappeared into another empty classroom – the old Muggle Studies one, from when it was trashed back during the War. The door was locked. I was about to use an  _Alohamora_  on it when Sam stopped me.

"You're the worst detective in the history of bad detectives!" he said. "You go in there, and Peeves will know you're on to him."

"So what am I supposed to?"

"Uh, listen in?"

Oh, yeah. I pulled out the stethoscope and stuck the earpieces in my ears, and flattened it against the stone wall. "Right, good idea. Good thing I brought the stethoscope."

"You mean your Extendable Ear."

"No, I mean my stethoscope." I gestured to it. "It's what Muggles use to listen to heartbeats. I modified it a bit – now it can pick up vibrations in the walls when people talk, so I can hear their conversations within a hundred metre radius. It can get a bit muddled though, if more than three or four people are talking nearby. It's not quite finished."

"…And it can hear through stone, can it?"

"Yep. The Extendible Ears need to go under doors."

"So you've got a listening device that can pick up vibrations of conversations from inside a sound-proof chamber over a hundred metres away."

He was being a bit slow, I guess. "Pretty much."

Sam stared at me. "You know what your problem is, Hugo?"

"Uh."

"You would have to be the dumbest smart person I've ever met."

I said 'thanks' at the time, but now I think he was insulting me.

"Haven't you ever thought of selling something like that?"

"Sell this old thing?" I asked, holding the stethoscope up. "Who'd want this?"

"The Ministry. Spies. FD. They'd pay a mint for something like that."

"It's a stethoscope, Sam."

He shook his head and let me get on with my eavesdropping. Peeves sounded absolutely gleeful. " _Found_ ," I heard him cackle, " _A cache of fascinating love letters. Considering who they're between, though?_  Ew!"

"I can hear him!" I hissed. "He's writing the GossipGhosts for this week!"

"So, it's Peeves. Whoop-de-doo."

But it didn't make sense. "But it can't be Peeves," I said. "I mean, it is – he's the one doing the writing – but who's he writing it for?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean –" I broke off and tried to think of a way to put it into words. "So, if GG was a student, they'd write it themselves, right? It's easy enough to disguise your handwriting – just use a spell, or write with your other hand or something. Or cut up bits of newspaper to make words. He's got to be writing it for a portrait or a ghost, I'm sure of it."

Sam didn't look interested, but I kept going.

"Peeves is a culprit, but not the mastermind!"

"This isn't going to be like those stories, is it? One clue leads to another clue and that clue leads to another, and another, and another, and there's never any treasure – just clues?"

I thought about it. "No, I'm pretty sure if I just follow Peeves around I'll find out who GG is."

"…Right, okay. So do we tell people?"

"Not yet."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Of course not. Well, I'm going to the library."

"You've got class."

"So?"

Damn it, Sam.

And… that's it, really. Peeves is the one writing the GGs, but he's not making them up, I'm sure of it.

Anyway, I'll give this back to you when I see you next, Lorcan. Probably dinner, or tomorrow.

* * *

Posted on the general Hogwarts noticeboard:

_\- Found: A cache of fascinating love letters. Considering who they're between, though?_ Ew _._

_\- Everyone knows that the best place to hide something is in plain sight. But H, I'm not everyone, and this is one game of hide and seek you'll never win on your own. Maybe you should ask your slithersome friend for tips?_

* * *

_Entry by Lorcan Scamander_

_March 24, 2024_

I am of course respectful of my journal's life choices, but I feel compelled to express my surprise and concern at its lack of protective measures and its faithlessness to its owner. I paid a slightly-more-than-reasonable amount for this glorified diary.

And 5th March was not yesterday, although presumably Hugo simply forgot he had this in his possession. I suppose I should be grateful he returned it to me at all.

_Later_

It seems even the teachers have given up on trying to control Lysander. My Potions class was disrupted today by my brother flying an enchanted carpet (courtesy of Hugo Martin) through the dungeons, and he crash-landed rather badly in the middle of it. Professor Robertson did not take points, or even give him a detention – she ignored him and left him there when the class was over. Rose certainly didn't bother to help him up, although she did lean over and ask him if she could borrow his quill. (He obliged.)

I stayed back after the class to talk to him once everyone else was gone. "Are you incapable of standing or is this another attempt at the melodramatic?" I inquired, very reasonably.

"You know what, Lorcan, I was right. You  _have_  become progressively ruder over the years. Where's your diary? I haven't defaced it for a while."

"I am not in the habit of holding discussions with people who are lying on the floor unless I am lying on the floor with them."

Lysander waited expectantly.

"I have no intention of lying down on the floor with you."

He rose to his elbows and arched an eyebrow at me. "Fine, then you can just stand there and chat with me. Have you seen the latest copy of  _Witch Weekly_?"

"I'm not sure whether to be amused or heartbroken that the  _Witch Weekly_  features in your library."

"I've tried  _everything_  to get her attention, Lorcan!"

Everything, which clearly included not only diving off the Astronomy Tower and flying enchanted carpets around, but subscribing to the  _Witch Weekly_  for tips on how to be a boyfriend. "I don't suppose you've considered merely  _talking_  to her," I suggested, but my brother is not one for taking my advice.

Observe: "What good will talking do?"

I imagined talking would do a great deal more than his death-defying antics, and I almost explained that until I remembered that Lysander was never especially well versed in the art of communication. It will simply have to be something he overcomes himself. I shrugged instead, and he looked bereft.

"I love her," he bemoaned.

Why he was telling  _me_  that, I've no idea, since I already knew it and I was certainly not Rose Weasley.

Lysander was not impressed with my silent response to his heartfelt declaration. "Bah, what am I talking to you for, anyway? You're asexual."

"That's the third time someone has said that about me," I complained, but he ignored me. I withheld a long-suffering sigh and sat next to him on the floor. "Have you broken anything?"

He shifted his legs experimentally. "No, I think I'm okay. Just bruised." He rubbed his eyes. "And I think I just hit rock bottom."

I refrained from mentioning that when a protagonist of some such story utters that phrase at a low point in their lives, that point is ultimately revealed to  _not_  be their "rock bottom", but rather a later, worse point is their "rock bottom". But as Lysander is not the protagonist of  _my_  story, perhaps he will escape this particular trope. Instead I nodded sympathetically and watched as he tried to ease himself up off the ground, and failed.

"Lorcan, I can't get up. Help me?"

"You said you were only bruised."

"Bruises hurt."

Rose is right about him needing to grow a certain appendage or two. "I am not about to throw my own back out in an attempt to peel you off the floor."

"I'm not that heavy!"

"It is March, which means you have been gorging on chocolate in the lead-up to Easter."

He scowled. "Shut yer gob, tosser."

I sighed, stood up, and extended my hand to him to help him up. "I have no idea what you're saying when you devolve into Cockney."

"Cor, blimey."

"Stop that."

"Or what, you'll drop me?"

I maintain that my grasp on his hand merely slipped.

* * *

Posted on the general Hogwarts noticeboard:

_\- Spotted: Money changing hands in a discreet fourth-floor corridor. Clearly the_ structural _integrity of those barricades isn't the only kind in question._

 _\- Judging by the increase in tearful breakdowns, B and S have finally downgraded from screaming to scheming. Woe betide anyone who gets caught in_ this _crossfire..._

* * *

_Entry by Lorcan Scamander_

_March 30, 2024_

This evening has been quite exhausting, but very productive. I resigned myself to the library before dinner, as I am wont to do, and managed to get in about half an hour of study prior to Lily Luna's appearance at my secluded study desk. "Lorcan!" she announced, dropping her bag beside the spare chair. "I've been looking for you and your finely sculpted arse for an hour now."

I bowed my head to her and put aside my quill. "My apologies, Lily, I was not expecting you. I thought perhaps you'd want to spend your evening with David Forster."

Lily shrugged. "No," she said. "We broke up last week."

"Oh, I'm – sorry to hear that," I said, completely honestly.

"It's okay, it wasn't really working out between us." Her tone was flippant, but her eyes lacked their usual daring gleam, replaced instead by something a little sad. "He doesn't care much for my independent study. He said I was wasting all my time on… stupid projects."

I completed the rest myself: and therefore not spending enough time with  _him_. I could tell that he'd hurt her quite deeply by saying so, trivialising her incredible mind and work. If I possessed the physiology and the temperament, I should like to have a quiet word to Mister Forster about his appalling conduct. I reached out to take her hand. "Your research and passion is not wasting time, Lily," I said. "And they are certainly not stupid."

She smiled wryly. "Even though they come at the expense of my classes and marks?"

I might not have said so several years ago, but I do now. "Even though."

Lily exhaled, as though a weight had lifted from her. "Thank you, Lorcan. I don't even know why I'm so upset about David. I didn't like him that much. It's just… he's the second boyfriend I've chased away, you know."

"He is the second boyfriend who has not understood or appreciated you and your work." I touched her cheek. "The only opinion that matters is your own – no-one else's."

She glanced down. "Oh, I don't know – I hang out for yours."

I returned her smile. "And I yours."

We paused for a moment, watching each other, before I let my hand fall from her cheek and we pulled back at the same time. She grabbed her sketchbook, and I pushed my Arthimancy homework away from me. "So. I've been doing some thinking," she said, back to usual energetic business-like self.

"A dangerous pastime."

She winked at me, and I in no way at all flushed. How dare you accuse me of that.

"I may or may not have come into possession of some highly sought-after metals for the Time Turner casing."

I admit, I did blanch at that. "How?" I exclaimed.

"Well, I won quite a lot of money from the bet on the number of points Hugo lost last year, and it's not hard to buy gold jewellery…"

As it transpires, she has made the mold and melted the metals herself.

"And what, pray tell, is left for me to do?" I asked, and Lily laughed.

"You get to draw up the theory of it all!"

Ah, the fun part. "Speaking of theory – the temporal-displacement spell you created. I have been examining its properties."

I showed her my notes. She glanced at them, wide-eyed. "You wrote a small book on it."

I do not regret that my attendance record for History of Magic has declined in order to write the so-called 'small book'. "What you designed is quite incredible, Lily. You sent a horde of Cornish Pixies several years into the future – our subjective present – not by moving  _them_ , but by adjusting the time and space  _around_  them."

The amount of power involved in such a spell is unfathomable, and I expressed my admiration. We  _may_  have accidentally skipped dinner discussing the possibilities of such a spell. We parted ways after ducking down to the kitchens for some food – she returned to Gryffindor, and I made my way through the barricades (which had spread to the floor where the stairs to get to the Ravenclaw Tower start). Professor Longbottom is quite concerned with their exponential growth; yesterday I overheard him confiding to Professor Flitwick that he hopes the barricades do not encroach upon the Room of Requirement, as it is still "healing" itself from the Skirmish during the Battle of Hogwarts.

On my way through the barricades, I ran into Albus and Scorpius and Rose – who were fighting quite loudly.

I say "fighting" – I in fact mean they were putting on a show, because as soon as they caught sight of me they ceased and ensured no-one else was immediately around. I was not ignorant to the way Albus leaned against Scorpius.

"Lorcan, we missed you at dinner."

"I was pursuing some independent study," I explained. "Rose, are you joining us in our Common Room tonight?"

She grinned. "Of course. We have a show to put on!"

I have to wonder at times why she was not Sorted into Slytherin.

Scorpius pulled out a small white flag from his pocket. "Right, well, since we're all together – we might as well make our way through the barricades. Behind me!"

At least James' adamant students still have respect for those outside of class hours. We navigated our way through the barricades with relative ease, only to come across James himself in the corridors of the sixth floor, still teaching his students even though it was well on its way to curfew.

"…so in conclusion, the Goblin Rebellions were  _pivotal_  in the establishment of the Statue of Secrecy due to the ramifications of a magical war affecting the delicate balance of Muggle-Wizard coexistence!" James shouted, straddling what looked to be lopsided bookcase. I wonder what happened to the books. I  _sincerely_  hope they were not used for the bonfire I passed in the middle of the hallway. My tolerance for James' eccentricities will only extend so far.

"That's bollocks, James."

That was Johannes Cabal, who was looking painfully dishevelled and unhappy with the present circumstance. I've not had much to do with Mister Cabal in our years at Hogwarts together, but in the several times I've been in his company, he has seemed a rather delightful fellow – very intelligent, and one of James's more avid students.

"Professor Potter to you, Mister Cabal!" James reminded him. Johannes rolled his eyes.

" _Professor Potter_ , it's total bollocks! The Goblin Rebellions were  _clearly_  orchestrated by the Ministry. What better way to convince Muggles to burn witches when a troop of Goblins charged through their houses, therefore perpetuating anti-Muggle sentiments that would last for –?"

"As usual, Johannes, you are grossly oversimplifying the issue and your hypothesis! I don't care what your stance on this is, but if you don't back your statements up with examples, you'll barely scrape an 'A' in my class."

"It's a bit hard to spout off an essay with correct facts when I've been trapped in this damn barricade for three days straight, you nutjob!"

"Don't make me deduct points!"

"Deduct whatever you want, I'm defecting to the Goblins' side!" I watched as Johannes clambered over the top of the pile of chairs – which started to sway precariously – and jumped down on the other side. "At least  _they_  have the library and the kitchens in their territory!"

" _Traitor!_ " James shouted. "Ten points from Slytherin! And your conspiracy idea is lame!"

" _You're not even a real teacher, James!_ "

We did not stay for the fallout.

"…Should we be worried?" Scorpius murmured, shoving his white flag into his pocket once we'd all reached the bottom of the staircase.

"Nah," Albus said. "It'll blow over in a week."

* * *

Posted on the Hogwarts general noticeboard:

_\- Lost: The dignity of a certain Norse charmer. Last seen embedded in the floor of the Astronomy Tower. If found, please return to the Slytherin common room. (L, you need to pick your battles more carefully, honey.)_

_\- Everyone loves a good star-crossed romance, but there is such a thing as overdoing it. Put the Draughts of Living Death away. You know who you are, all sixteen of you._

* * *

  
  
**Chapter 7: correspondence II**

_March 31, 2024_

Harry,

Okay, I know you said that James' obsession with the barricades would blow over? But either you don't know your own son or you're lying, because half of the school is now official "war territory" (and my personal chambers are barricaded by the "Goblins") and the Headmaster resigned yesterday because of the stress. I'm the temporary Headmaster while the Board of Governors tries to find someone else, but good luck to them because I don't know anyone who's willing to take charge of a school overrun by fake wars led by your deranged son. Oh, and since I'm temporary Headmaster, Otterburn is looking after my Herbology classes.  _Otterburn_. Do you have any idea how much pride it cost me to ask an old Herbology rival to take over for me? It'd be like me forcing you to ask Malfoy to become the Head Auror in your place – it just isn't something people  _do_ , Harry.

I'm basically just asking you to get James back under control. And no, I can't fire him, because I'm pretty sure he'd ignore me anyway and keep teaching, and as much as I hate to admit it, he does have the entire school interested in History of Magic. My only consolation in all of this mess is that at least his students will have the best exam results for that class seen in Merlin knows how many years.

Just  _please_  talk to him before he turns the Greenhouses into trenches – I'm growing some really rare specimens in there. Or at least I  _was_ , until I was forced to ask  _Otterburn_  to take over!

Neville

* * *

_April 2, 2024_

James,

So, I just got a letter from the new Headmaster of Hogwarts. I did some pretty outrageous things in my day, but I can assure you I was never directly responsible for a Headmaster's resignation. You promised you wouldn't let your barricades get out of control. It's great that you're being a passionate teacher and all, but would you please tone it down? Or at least consider channelling your energies into writing a book?

Dad

PS: Don't touch Neville's greenhouses. I mean it, James. He seems a bit on edge.

* * *

_April 4, 2024_

Dad, I'm pretty sure you were responsible for Snape throwing himself out of a window back in 1998. And as for that suspiciously oppressive tone of yours, I have only one thing to say:

REVOLUTION!

James

* * *

_April 5, 2024_

James,

1\. You've taken the Snape thing out of context;

2\. It was completely different and you know it; and,

3\. Please don't do what I think you're going to do.

Dad

PS: Did you even properly read my last letter? For the love of Merlin,  _don't touch Neville's greenhouses_. I've seen what he can do with a sword and you're already on his bad side as it is.

* * *

_April 6, 2024_

Miss Livia Malfoy  
Ravenswood College, Old Church Road  
Pembury, Tunbridge Wells  
Kent TN2 4AX, England

Dear Livia,

So, Easter's coming up! I think my family is having yours over for the break for a couple of days, so it'll be really great to see you again. Things at Hogwarts are… weird. I'm sure Scorpius has already told you, but in case he hasn't, James has made barricades  _everywhere_  and half of the school is fighting in a re-enactment of the Goblin Rebellions. Although I did see a French flag in the Great Hall the other day, so it's possible he's progressed or something.

I've had  _great_  progress with GossipGhost! Sam and I (well, just me really, Sam whined the whole time) found out who's been writing the GGs that get stuck on the general Hogwarts noticeboard. It's Peeves! Which was pretty anticlimactic when you think about it, because everyone reckoned it was Peeves, but I'm still positive he's writing it for someone else. So, I've been trying to follow him around but it's been hard because I keep getting lost in the barricades and I shouldn't miss classes.

How are things at Ravenswood going? You don't talk much about your friends there – do any of the other girls know about magic?

More seriously… I'm really worried about Sam. His obsession with raising the dead has gotten kinda frightening. He's missed so many classes in the past few weeks. I don't know if I should tell a teacher or not. At least I know he can't buy anything dangerous. I'm pretty sure he's spent all the money he won last year from a bet.

Hope to hear from you soon!

Love,

Hugo

* * *

_April 6, 2024_

Hey Marian,

This letter is just for you, okay? Please don't let Dad see this.

I hope you're doing well. Sorry I've been slow with the letters lately – I've been trying to study for my NEWTs. (The final exams things.) It's been a bit hard with all the barricades over the school, but we're coping. I don't suppose Ravenswood or any of the other Muggle schools you taught at had barricades in the corridors?

So… okay. This is awkward to write, but… I want to tell Dad, except I'm not sure how he'll take it. I really want to tell someone, but my mother hasn't really been part of my life for several years now, so… the thing is, I'm in love with Albus. I mean, yeah, I was dating Rose for a bit (and still pretending to – don't worry, she knows) but Albus and I are together. And I don't know if I should tell Dad, or how he'd take it if I do.

Please don't tell him – I just wanted to tell you, and ask if you think I should tell him. And if I should tell him, then  _what_  I should say. I'm sorry to bother you with this, it's just I don't really know who else to write to.

Thank you,

Scorpius

* * *

_April 8, 2024_

Dear Scorpius,

Well, I had to wrestle your letter out of your father's hand once I saw it was only for me, but rest assured he didn't see a single word. (I may have also threatened him with Hadrian's toilet-training duties for the rest of the month.) I'm very well, thank you, and don't worry, we know you've been busy studying. I imagine it would be a bit distracting having barricades all over the school. I can't say that any school I ever taught at supported large-scale re-enactment of wars for class material, although to be completely honest I originally just assumed the barricades were normal for Hogwarts.

I'm honoured you told me, Scorpius. I think it's wonderful that you and Albus are together, and it's wonderful that you've told someone. I know I'm not your mother, but I love you very much and I'm very proud of you. For what it's worth, I think Draco will take the news just fine. Have faith in your father – if he can cope with having a non-magical daughter, and if he had the nerve to marry a Muggle, then I'm sure he'll be fine with you and Albus. And if he isn't, then I promise to give him a sharp slap across the face.

I look forward to seeing you again at Easter – you're much missed by your father, Hadrian, and me.

Much love,

Marian

* * *

_April 10, 2024_

FORWARD TO:  
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Hugo Weasley  
Weasley House, St. Andrew's Road  
Avon, Portbury  
Somerset BS24 9AY, UK

Dear Hugo,

I can't wait to see you at Easter! It's been far too long. You'll have to tell me more about these barricades that James is building. I do hope he knows what he's doing – it all sounds rather outrageous to me, but I wish I could be there at Hogwarts with you to see it for myself. I have a fondness for the French Revolution myself! We've been learning about it in History, but Ravenswood probably wouldn't like it if someone started building barricades in the halls.

Peeves? That is a little anticlimactic, but I look forward to hearing your theories on who the other person it is that he's writing the GossipGhosts for.

Ravenswood is just fine, thank you for asking. It's… not as exciting as Hogwarts, but I suppose you might have guessed that. English is still my favourite subject, and Marian helps me with any class content I'm not strong on.

My friends are fine too. There's a girl called Emily, who sleeps on the bed next to me in my dorm. She's nice – very quiet and very serious, but she likes me because I listen to her (she gets homesick very frequently), and I'm more or less guaranteed her vote for when the votes for Class Captain comes around. (Sort of like a practice Prefect, but without the large responsibilities – and if I'm voted in as Class Captain then I have more of a chance for becoming a Prefect in two years.)

As far as I know, none of the other girls know about magic. I did try to slip in a few hints into conversations last year – such as mentioning Beedle the Bard – but I think I'm the only one here. So I doubt I'll ever have any of my Muggle acquaintances over for our joint family Christmas dinners.

If Samael Glyde makes you worried, then perhaps you should tell a teacher. It sounds like he'll probably get caught on his own, if he keeps his horrid behaviour up, but if he ever scares you or threatens you with anything, you need to tell someone. All right?

I'll see you at Easter, Hugo. Keep safe until then!

Love,

Livia

* * *

_April 14, 2024_

Cobb & Webb's  
13A Knockturn Alley  
London

Hello sir,

As per our previous correspondence, I would like to purchase the Bells and the book. Enclosed is the agreed price. I've also arranged with BUNDLE to make the delivery, so once you receive the payment a person from BUNDLE will collect my package.

Thanks,

Samael G.

* * *

_April 17, 2024_

Hi there, Samael Glyde!

Blundershire's Universally Notable Deliverer of Letters and Entities, running since 1336 and delivering in rain, hail, or shine, has collected your package from Cobb & Webb's today, so you can expect it delivered to you by tomorrow!

We are delighted to be of service to you, and thank you for choosing BUNDLE!

Regards,

The BUNDLE Team

* * *

_April 18, 2024_

Harry – why in the name of Merlin has James upgraded his barricades to the French Revolution?  _I asked you to tell him to tone it down. IF HE TOUCHES MY GREENHOUSES, IT'LL BE YOUR FAULT. I'M SERIOUS, HARRY._

* * *

  
  
**Chapter 8: from the not-so-private journal of Lorcan Scamander VI**   
  


_Entry by Rose Weasley_

_April 22, 2024_

…Lorcan? I have several choice words to share with you when I see you again. I honestly have no idea whether to laugh or strangle you. I'm going to go with laugh, because I can't afford to go on trial for murder with the NEWTs, even though you completely had it coming. (Just you wait until  _after_  the exams.)

Okay, maybe murder is a bit extreme. And I haven't read everything in your journal, because there's an awful lot to get through and that's an invasion of privacy (even though it seems like everyone and their mother has read and written in your journal!) and I do have some boundaries. But I will say – good  _grief_ , Lorcan, you seem so quiet in day-to-day life!

Like numerous people before me, I don't know how your diary ended up in my trunk. I have a feeling Lysander had something to do with it, since he had a habit of stealing it earlier this year, but I must have accidentally grabbed it before he could draw more penises in it. I honestly don't know why anyone puts up with him anymore. That last day, before Easter break, when he used suction caps to crawl along the ceiling? Ridiculous. It's not even that amusing anymore. I wish he  _had_  just asked me out at the beginning of the year – because at this rate, even if he does ask me out sometime soon, I… honestly don't know what my reaction will be. I think he likes danger seeking and melodrama more than he wants to ask me out.

Anyway.

Since you're away in Australia catching Snorffles or Cackhounds or magical dingos or something with your family, I might as well recount part of the break for you. I don't have a diary myself, as I prefer to spend my time actually studying instead of writing about studying, but… well, it's Easter, and you're going to want this in your diary. (I noticed that you're suspiciously fond of reporting on the Ravenclaw soap opera. You know, I really have to wonder if you aren't GossipGhost, Lorcan.)

This was yesterday:

It was a general get-together/dinner at my parents' place. Again. Seriously, we have  _so many_  of those. But I'm well used to them by now, so it was business as usual, except for the part where I had to reassure Scorpius into sticking with his plan to come out to his family. (I.e. Mr Malfoy.) He'd been worrying himself sick over it for the last week – constantly stressing about whether or not he should tell his father, and if he did then what his father's reaction would be. I was convinced it would be just fine. I mean, we've all heard the stories about Mr Malfoy when he was at Hogwarts with all our parents, and he – well, he was not the nicest of people. But if in between then and now, he has not only happily supported and raised a non-magical daughter who received Muggle schooling, become very close friends with my dad, and married a Muggle woman who gave birth to his half-blood Malfoy son, then I was absolutely certain he'd take Scorpius and Albus in a stride.

The 'confrontation', as it was, happened after dinner when most of the rest of the family went back to their respective homes. I think at that stage only the Malfoys, Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry, and Uncle George and numerous redhead cousins were around. Mr Malfoy was talking with my father, something about FD groups popping up around England (again), when Scorpius and Albus decided to do the reveal.

Mr Malfoy noticed them standing there awkwardly and paused his chat with Dad. "Yes?" he asked.

Scorpius faltered, but then I gave him a firm shove forward. He staggered a bit and turned around to glare at me, but then righted himself and clutched Al's hand bravely. "Go on!" I said.

"Dad," Scorpius said, presumably before he could chicken out (a Gryffindor he is not), voice shaking a little, "I have to tell you something."

Mr Malfoy looked wary. "You do?"

"Yes."

"Right now?" he said. "Instead of, say, in nine days?"

Scorpius frowned. "No, right now."

Mr Malfoy's eyes flicked down to Scorpius' and Al's joined hands. "Okay, look, before you do anything rash, make absolutely certain that you –"

"We're together."

Mr Malfoy stared, then let out a muffled curse. "Scorpius!"

Scorpius flinched, but raised his head. "I don't care what you think. I –"

"Nine days! You couldn't wait  _nine more days_  to come out?"

Beside him, Dad doubled over, wracked with laughter. "Bwhwhhaa—" he cackled, struggling for air. "Malfoy, you – you owe me – oh Merlin –"

"Laugh it up, Weasel!"

Scorpius and Albus stared, and the rest of the family either started to laugh or groan and pull out bags of Galleons.

" _You owe me so much money –_ "

Mr Malfoy threw a bag of Galleons at Dad's chest, and Dad staggered backwards, clutching the bag, still cackling. "I'm  _rich_ ," he crowed, and Mum just shook her head. I figured it probably wouldn't be a good time to tell her – or anyone – that I'm going to get very rich myself in the first week of May.

"So… you're okay with it?" Scorpius said weakly, and Mr Malfoy sighed and rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Scorpius," he said, sounding very tired and long-suffering, "I'm okay with it because you're my son and I love you, and I'm okay with it because you didn't choose a redhead which means you're at least  _subconsciously_  still thinking of the upholstery. I just really –  _really_  – wish you'd waited until the beginning of May."

Scorpius tried to look nonchalant, but I could tell he was on the verge of tears. Happy tears, that is. "Well, I'm glad my love life is a source of income for you," he drawled.

"You mean a source of income for  _Weasley_."

Scorpius clearly couldn't hold himself back anymore, because he hugged his dad tightly. Mr Malfoy hugged him back, and nodded at Albus who was waiting to the side. "Just don't adopt any redheaded children," Mr Malfoy said sternly when Scorpius pulled back and re-joined Albus. "Bad enough Hugo has that unfortunate colour –"

"Draco, you have plenty of time to plan for interior redecorating before Livia and Hugo –" Marian started to say, obviously just to humour him, but Mr Malfoy interrupted her.

"But the curtains, Marian. Think of the  _curtains_."

I really adore Marian. She gave him a look – you know, the kind of look only a wife can give her husband – and said, "If you can readily bet a hundred galleons with Ronald over your son's sexuality then I'm sure changing the upholstery won't be out of pocket for you." Then she passed Hadrian over to Mr Malfoy so she could go and help Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry serve up the tea and coffee. Hadrian started to laugh, because babies do that and Hadrian is one of the giggliest babies I've ever known.

"What are you laughing at?" Mr Malfoy demanded of his son. "There aren't any more Potters or Weasleys left for  _you_  to fall in love with."

"Well, actually, Mr Malfoy," I said, "if you count all of my cousins –"

Mr Malfoy covered Hadrian's ears. " _Don't. Give him. Ideas._ "

In all honesty, I think he's just happy that it wasn't me and Scorpius – because if it really was us together, I'm pretty sure he'd make me dye my hair blond or something atrocious like that.

So that was yesterday, and we'll be back at school soon. I'm not as bad as Hugo – I'll give this to you as soon as I see you, and then I intend to properly submerse myself in studying for the NEWTs. They're so  _close_  to us, Lorcan! I hope you've been studying and encouraging Lily to study for her OWLs instead of spending time fiddling around with impossible Time Turners.

And I'm still going to share a few choice words with you. You are  _not_  off the hook.

* * *

Posted on the general Hogwarts noticeboard:

_As the school year draws to a close and certain barricades show no signs of shifting, it's nice to know that at least some things are capable of changing..._

_Our favourite soap opera, for instance, has finally broken that bizarre and frustrating holding pattern! Congratulations to all the various winners, whose faith in the blindness of eagles finally paid off._

_Other couples are perhaps not so lucky - after the Somme Mud Incident I really don't think anyone will be giving B the time of day, poor lamb. Although if she and S want to sell tickets to a reenactment, I've no doubt they'll get plenty of takers..._

* * *

_Entry by Lorcan Scamander_

_May 1, 2024_

Is it too late for me to consider putting a lock on my journal?

Rose Victoria did indeed share a few choice words with me, but nothing terribly severe. By the time today came by, she'd greatly cooled down and forgiven my 'gossip-like tendencies' and suggested I ought to consider not recording other peoples' personal lives in my journal. She is convinced that GossipGhost has been pulling bits of gossip out of my journal. I do hope that is not the case.

At any rate, I thank Rose Victoria for her faithful record of the events at the Potter/Weasley and Malfoy dinner. I almost regret missing it now.  _Almost_. Australia was most exhilarating. Although we were not searching for dingos, which have no magical properties. The blue-ringed octopi, on the other hand…

_Later_

Albus Severus and Scorpius Hyperion officially "came out" today as a couple at Hogwarts.

It was, admittedly, a little anticlimactic for me, as I've been a close observer of the drama since the start. As such, I was not nearly as shocked as most of the students at breakfast when Albus and Scorpius entered the Great Hall with their arms linked to announce their union.

I don't dare imagine the loss my brother has endured with his poor betting choices.

"Wait, wait, wait," Lysander said, spluttering and gaping at Rose who was cashing in her profits. "So her and Scorpius – that was  _fake?_  They were all in it  _together?!_ "

I do not know whether he'd have felt better or worse if I told him Rose manipulated events first, and the two boys were recruited a little later. Probably worse. I wisely kept silent.

"You rigged it!" James accused, and Rose just shrugged and continued to collect her money.

I really do wonder why she was not Sorted into Slytherin.

_Later again_

It is approaching midnight, but I'm far too intellectually stimulated at present to consider resting. I must record this. After dinner, I was once more in the library – one of the few places left in Hogwarts (aside from the Headmaster's office, the greenhouses, and the Room of Requirement) that remains untouched by James' historical antics. Lily, as usual, found me:

"Thought I'd find you here! Hiding from the barricades, or from the Ravenclaw soap opera?"

"Good evening, Lily," I said, straightening. "Both, as a matter of fact – and a most happy birthday to you."

"Sweet sixteen," she drawled with a wink. "I got your letter over the break – thank you!"

"You're welcome. Did you receive agreeable gifts from your friends and family?"

"Well, Mum put a ban on anything that could be considered 'dangerous', so I mostly got books, but they're all pretty good reads. And Uncle Percy bought me a book on time travel! Can you believe it?"

"He does seem to be rather encouraging your area of study," I observed.

"He's a cool uncle."

That is not the description I'd heard Albus Severus and James Sirius apply to Unspeakable Percy Weasley. Associative words usually include "boring" and "stuffy", and although I myself am not a close acquaintance of Percy Weasley (is anyone, really?) I do find him reasonably affable, if understandably distant.

"Well, sometimes," Lily amended in response to my contemplative silence. "I saw him and Aunt Audrey and my cousins over the break – a bit unusual, since he's always locked up in the Ministry and they do a lot of their own stuff – but I managed to ask him about a possible hourglass being made by the Department of Mysteries…"

I sat forward in interest. "Oh?"

"Oh indeed," Lily said. "Percy didn't say much since it's all 'classified' and whatnot, and  _how did you even hear about the set of hourglasses anyway, Lily, I hope I don't have to have a word to your mother_ , but get this – it's not just  _an_  hourglass, it's a  _set_  of hourglasses. More than one!"

And we have been building three Time Turners – one for her, one for me, and a spare. We've almost completed the tiers and initial charms and will soon commence on the chain, with only the hourglasses beyond our available resources at Hogwarts. I made a move to speak and admit my fascination with the subject, but Lily shushed me by placing a finger over my lips, and she glanced around. "But we'll talk about this later when we're properly alone. I don't want anyone eavesdropping on this."

I can imagine why, and I quite agree: whilst I do not believe discussing secret Department of Mysteries projects is illegal, I personally do not fancy a visit (or a mind-wipe) from the Unspeakables. In the past we  _used_  to be 'properly' alone in the library, but it is more and more becoming a safe-haven for the students who do not wish to participate in the French Revolution.

"So, the book – Percy gave it to me after the dinner where Mum couldn't see. I have it in my trunk – come back with me to my dorm tonight and I'll lend it to you. It's by the same guy who wrote  _Infinitisms of the Temporal Dimension_."

I'd no idea he'd authored a second book on time travel. "That is very thoughtful of you, Lily, but I could not possibly borrow from you a book you've not yet finished reading, let alone one gifted to you on your birthday," I said.

She rolled her eyes. "Lorcan, I see you every day in the library anyway. But we could read it together, if you'd prefer?"

I confess, I was not opposed to the idea. I agreed. She pulled out our Time Turners – at that point the basic three-tier structure – and set them out to begin performing our charms. It probably was not entirely safe to do so in the library, I realise now, but I can reliably report we did not cause any fires and/or explosions. Lily has a penchant for creating havoc, but she is also very good at the utmost precision and delicate wandwork. I rolled up my sleeves for the spells, revealing my reddened skin to her.

"Is that a sun burn?" she asked, glancing down.

"It is, and I've no idea how I received it as not only was it autumn in Australia, but I made certain to wear protective clothing to prevent this."

Lysander, predictably, did not receive any sort of burn whatsoever.

"You should get Al to make you a salve," Lily said, gently pressing her fingers to the burn on my forearm. Her touch was rather soothing. "Where did you go to exactly, anyway?"

"Jervis Bay – a small magical community on Australia's East Coast."

"Ooh, nice."

I try not to make a habit of building up suspense for the mere sake of it, but I had been looking forward to revealing this next part to her all night. "I took the liberty," I said, "whilst there, to collect the sand."

"Sand?" She raised her eyebrows, clearly amused. "I've heard of rock- and shell-collecting hobbies, but sand's a new one."

I could not help but hide a grin. "This will intrigue you, Lily," I said. "The sand on Hyams Beach is considered to be the whitest and finest sand in the world – and is considered to have magical properties."

Lily caught on very quickly. "…Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

I responded by pulling out a small bag of the specimen and passed it to her. Lily took immense care not to spill it, despite her obvious excitement; she delicately opened the drawstring and used her wand to withdraw several grains. "Lorcan, this… this is amazing."

"It was no trouble," I said. "While my strength in this partnership lies primarily in the theoretical analytics of our work, I realised that you would not be able to continue your work during the Easter break at home, nor here at school, and we both lacked previous access to an element for the Time Turners. So I took the liberty of collecting another property of our work. I think this sand shall be… perfect."

She was enamoured. "It's  _beautiful_."

"It's only sand," I said wryly, but she closed the drawstring and launched herself at me for a hug. I managed to catch her before we both toppled to the ground due to the force. "We should be able to enchant it using your time-displacement spell –"

"I refined it over Easter!" she said breathlessly, pulling back but still gripping my arm. "In theory, that is – you'll need to look over it for inconsistencies first. Help me finish enchanting the tiers?"

"Of course," I said, and we commenced our mutual wandwork.

* * *

Posted on the general Hogwarts noticeboard:

_\- V, just because you're a Sergeant at Arms, doesn't mean you're King of the Barricade. Keep your head down before you need another eyepatch._

_\- Spotted: The third years' favourite space cadet getting his arse kicked yet again. You need to calm down, honey - White's a Healer, not a miracle worker!_

* * *

_Entry by Lorcan Scamander_

_May 7, 2024_

Today was puzzling, but I'm beginning to realise that what I would usually consider 'puzzling' is now commonplace. It's disorientating. The Gryffindors, at least, are enjoying the history lessons. They have taken to the spirit of the French Revolution very keenly, under James' lead.

" _Do you hear the people sing? Singing a song of angry men! It is the music of a people who will not be slaves again –!_ "

"I didn't think the French Revolution was part of magical history," I mused out loud.

"It's not," Rose grumbled. "Uncle Harry inadvertently gave him the idea."

Albus, Scorpius, Rose, and myself, had been making our way to our Charms class, passing through the Great Hall. Usually we would take a shortcut through the corridors, but one of the main staircases is blocked off. And we were in no rush to get to class anyway; Professor Flitwick was missing from our last lesson, and rumour has it he is trapped on the seventh floor with his first year Charms class from last week. If nothing else, his first year students will be very well educated in the subject of Charms and European history.

Along the way to one of the exits, we ran into Hugo Martin and Samael Glyde who were also on their way to a class.

"Guys!" Hugo said, looking very relieved. No-one dared ask about the splinters all over his robe. "Can we stick with you until we get through the barricades?"

"Yes…" Rose said warily. "But –"

She was interrupted – quite rudely – by a non-student, who emerged from the cover to our left. He was looking as battered as Hugo no doubt felt, and his uniform (which I recognised as a delivery service) had been decorated by French Revolution trinkets.

"Afternoon!" the man announced. "I'm Rufus from Blundershire's Universally Notable Deliverer of Letters and Entities, running since 1336 and delivering in rain, hail, or shine!" Then he held out a battered package in front of him and squinted at the name on it. "I got a package here for Sam-A-El Glyde."

Rufus from BUNDLE held out the abnormally large package, which Samael lunged for and grabbed. "I ordered this almost three weeks ago!" he snapped, cradling it to his chest as though it were a most precious cargo. "BUNDLE promised overnight delivery!"

"An' I got here almost three weeks ago but I couldn't find you in all the barricades, now could I?" Rufus from BUNDLE looked around, clearly befuddled by the extreme teaching tactics of our esteemed History of Magic professor. "I don't remember any barricades when I was at school. What's goin' on anyway, World War One?"

"Those were trenches," I helpfully corrected, while Rose snapped, "Don't give him ideas –!"

But alas, James heard:

"The French Revolution!" James shouted from across the Hall, but then appeared to be struck by sudden inspiration. "But now that you've mentioned it, good sir, I might just have to tweak the syllabus a teensy bit more –"

"Oh, Merlin, no," Rose muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose as if in sudden mental pain.

Rufus from BUNDLE scratched his head. "Is there an easier way to get out of 'ere than through the main entrance?" he asked.

"You could try scaling down the Astronomy Tower," I suggested.

Rufus from BUNDLE did not like this suggestion, and shrugged and said he'd make his own way out. He nodded at Samael. "Thank you for choosing Blundershire's Universally Notable –"

"Yeah, yeah!" Samael snapped, and poor Rufus from BUNDLE looked affronted. He left. I have no idea if he ever ended up making it out of the castle. Once Rufus from BUNDLE had disappeared into the barricades, we all turned to face Samael, who shoved his package – badly – into his robes to unsuccessfully avoid the stares.

"What've you got there, Glyde?" Scorpius asked, faux-politely. Scorpius is not a fan of Samael, most likely due to the young man's inappropriate conduct with Miss Livia's letters the year Hugo disappeared.

Sam clutched the large package under his robes to his chest protectively. "Just something I ordered."

Hugo looked worried. "Sam…"

"C'mon, we've got class. I'll find my own way out."

Samael took off, and Hugo looked around at us and shrugged. "I'd… better go after him," he said.

"Hugo, you don't have to hang around him if it makes you uncomfortable," Rose said sternly.

"I know that!" Hugo snapped. "That's why I've been looking for GossipGhost, because I don't – never mind. I need to get to class. See you guys later."

He left after Samael, leaving us feeling disconcerted.

"I really worry about that Glyde kid sometimes," Albus said. "If he doesn't watch himself, he'll be getting a one-way ticket to that behavioural rehab school that's popped up in Plymouth."

I'm afraid I rather worry for Samael, too.

* * *

Posted on the general Hogwarts noticeboard:

_\- M and O are at it again...now the question is, how does a certain official-looking letter fit in?_

* * *

_Entry by Lorcan Scamander_

_May 13, 2024_

I do feel sorry for Professor Longbottom. I have a daunting suspicion that his 'temporary' Headmaster post is looking increasingly permanent, as it seems with every passing day we are no closer to getting a new Headmistress or Headmaster than we were almost two months ago. The intense escalation of James' history lessons has put something of a taboo on a Hogwarts teacher position.

As it is, Professor Longbottom has several things on his mind, including but not limited to his greenhouses and his displeasure that Professor Otterburn has taken over responsibilities. I overheard him today in the library with Professor Robertson.

"Really worried…" he was murmuring. "The Room of Requirement has stopped healing itself…"

"…barricades haven't touched it?" Professor Robertson asked.

"No – and even if they did, they wouldn't stop the Room from fixing itself. Must be something else –"

"How many years does it take for that place to heal, anyway?"

"Clearly more than twenty-six!" Professor Longbottom snapped, but I do not think he meant to be rude to Professor Robertson; he is merely concerned for the wellbeing of his school and his greenhouses, which thankfully have not yet been claimed as territory by the Allied or Axis powers.

_Later_

Well, that was… strange. I admit that the previous hour was not the most peculiar of my life, but it may just have to be placed up there. I can barely even recall the conversation that led into it, but I'm certain it had something to do with my friends discussing the people who starred in the GossipGhosts, and analysing why I never featured in them. My best guess is that I simply have not done anything scandalous enough to warrant a mention on the GossipGhosts, but my friends and my brother were most convinced that it had more to do with my lack of romantic life.

I attempted to offer my hypothesis, but I went ignored. Lily patted my arm sympathetically and kept me company in my silence while my friends debated my sexual orientation.

"Don't worry, Lorcan, there's no need to be ashamed of your sexuality," Albus assured me, once he remembered I was actually present.

"Or lack thereof," Scorpius added, and Rose looked at him with disapproval.

I frowned at all of them. "I realise that there is no shame whatsoever in being asexual, but I do not understand why people keep saying  _I_  am asexual."

Lysander blinked at me. "Because you… are?"

I stared at him, and everyone stared back at me. It was most disconcerting.

"…I mean, we just assumed that – well, you've never shown any interest in anyone!"

It did not escape my notice how quickly my brother's fumbling attempts to smooth over an awkward situation turned into defensive accusations. I decided to help him out. "I was in a relationship with Yolanda Liu for most of the previous school year," I said.

"Bullshit," he said, then turned around in his seat and called out over to the Ravenclaw table. "Hey, Yolanda!  _Yolanda!_ "

"A bit of decorum, if you please," I said, but if my brother has not yet taken my advice in eighteen years then I doubt he will begin to now.

" _Yolanda! Come here for a sec!_ "

Yolanda looked at her friends apologetically and parted ways with Nathan Nightingale, and approached us. "Yes, Lysander?" she said, sounding very long-suffering. I suppose as a Prefect she has been attempting to keep the school in order as best she can.

"Lorcan says you dated him last year!" Lysander said accusingly.

She glanced at me. "Not that it's any of your businesses, Lysander," she said, "but yes. Lorcan and I did date."

Lysander seemed temporarily incapable of speech, so I spoke on his behalf. "I apologise for bothering you, Yolanda," I said, and her gaze softened as she looked at me.

"It's fine, Lorcan. See you later."

As soon as she left hearing range of us, Rose turned to me and smacked my shoulder. "Why didn't you tell us?" she asked.

"You never asked."

Lily, I noticed, had not said a single word this entire conversation.

"But –" Lysander spluttered, and Albus and Scorpius just looked bewildered. I really had no idea my sexuality was of such concern to these people. Perhaps I am more of an enigma than I imagined myself to be.

"I realise I may appear to be above such base desires," I said, "but I assure you that my orientation is heterosexual."

Lysander shook his head. "Wow. Okay. My perception of the world just shifted uncomfortably."

"Should I apologise?"

"No, you suck at apologies. I'm just going to try and… cope, somehow."

He remains, as always, my beloved and melodramatic brother.

Lily, at this point, still had not said a word. I turned to her, most concerned, as she usually has one opinion or another to contribute. "Lily, are you all right?"

"Me?" she said. "Yes, I'm fine! I just need to go and – create havoc somewhere. See you later!"

She disappeared, presumably to create havoc somewhere, leaving me sitting there with my brethren feeling rather confused.

* * *

_Entry by Lorcan Scamander_

_May 15, 2024_

I cannot exactly pinpoint the moment my relationship with Lily became more than a passing acquaintance of mutual interest, or a partnership over a project. We seem to have struck something more profound. We spend much time together in the library these days – almost every single night, in fact.

Tonight I could tell something was bothering her, as she was distracted in her work on completing the chains for our Time Turners.

"Is there anything you wish to share, Lily?" I asked carefully. She glanced up at me and flushed, realising I'd noticed something was weighing on her mind, and she shook her head.

"Sorry. No. It's silly."

"What's wrong with silly?"

"Nothing. I still hang out with you, don't I?"

I shared her smile, and waited until she felt comfortable to speak.

"I want…" she finally said, biting her lower lip, "I want  _more_ , Lorcan. More than this life I'm expected to have. People always say they want to do 'something different', but in the end, they all do the same thing. They go to Hogwarts, do their OWLs and NEWTs, maybe travel for a year and 'discover' themselves, then they get married to their school sweetheart and get a job, earn money and pay taxes, then pop out some kids of their own to send to Hogwarts and the cycle repeats again…" She shook her head again. "It's fine for those who want it, but  _I_  don't want it. I mean, I do want a family one day, but I don't want to stand still. Not yet. There's so much more to life than exams and an office job."

"I suppose that means you will not be accepting the Department of Mysteries' early job offer?" I asked wryly, and she gave me a sheepish grin.

" _That_  was supposed to be a secret."

"This is Hogwarts, Lily; not much remains a secret for long."

"Bloody ghosts, always gossiping," she scoffed, rolling her eyes. "No, I'm not going to take a job with them because I wouldn't ever be allowed to use our Time Turner. I'd… suffocate, under them. But you – you understand what I mean, don't you, Lorcan? No-one else does. They all think it's a phase I'm going through, and that all of this –" Lily reached out to touch the delicate gold chain I was holding, her fingertips grazing the links. "– is something I'll grow out of."

We sat in silence again for a moment. Then she looked up at me and asked, "What do  _you_  think?"

I think many things. I think that Lily's words and ambitions, and her outlook on life, make sense, from a certain point of view. I used to think that my schooling was one of the most important aspects of my life – indeed, at the beginning of this year all I was hoping to do was navigate my NEWTs without hassle – but as the months have gone by and my partnership with Lily has deepened… I find my outlook on life has altered.

Of course, our dialogue was a few hours ago, and I had not at that point collected my thoughts. So I took her hand and said, "I think… that they are quite incorrect. This is part of who you are, Lily, and as long as you remain certain of yourself and what you want, then what they think is irrelevant. I think you are the most remarkable young woman I have ever met, and it an honour and a privilege to work alongside you."

Lily stared at me, her eyes wide and her lips slightly parted. I suspect if I'd touched her cheek, I'd have felt her skin to be quite warm. I resisted.

She eventually cleared her throat and stammered on some syllables before saying, "Lorcan, I – that is – I, uh, I could say the same about you. Except that you're – uh – obviously not a young woman."

"I have been called worse things."

She smirked. "Strapping young lad?"

"An apt description," I allowed, and she snorted. "Now – shall we continue our highly illegal work?"

"Dinner first, maybe," she suggested, and I complied. We packed away our highly illegal work and made our way down to dinner (passing without harm through the trenches of the Battle of Verdun, which was being led – appropriately – by Dominique and Louis Weasley). Alas, dinner plans were unfortunately altered, as the Great Hall was partially flooded due to the Battle of Jutland. Professor Robertson informed us that meals were being delivered to the Common Rooms instead.

Lily and I were momentarily separated by a group of rowboats that were supposed to represent the Royal Canadian Navy. I managed to avoid getting my robes wet; Lily was not so fortunate, and retaliated by capsizing an Australian battleship, inadvertently aligning herself with Germany.

I waited for her to escape the battle on the patch of dry land at the entrance.

"You are not participating in Professor Potter's enactment of the Great War?"

I am not usually one to be startled by others, but the Hogwarts ghosts to have a way of sneaking up on people. I jumped a little and turned to face the Bloody Baron, and my shoulder accidentally went through his arm. "It's generally called World War One these days, sir," I said.

The Bloody Baron observed me for a long moment, then nodded. "Indeed. Old habits die hard, Mister Scamander."

I glanced back at the boats and paddles. "Do you suppose I ought to participate?" I enquired, as I know that the thoughts and suggestions of the Hogwarts ghosts can be most wise.

"I daresay you'll see enough war in your own time without having to be part of a counterfeit one in your youth, Lorcan," the Bloody Baron murmured, then tilted his head towards me. "Good day."

He floated off, leaving me feeling rather confused – at which point Lily Luna approached me, now completely sopping wet, with a white flag gripped tightly in her left hand. "I'm going to  _kill_  James," she said, and wiped some water off face with the sleeve of her also-wet robe.

"I regret to inform you that cannot, as you 'owe' him."

"From what?"

"The Great Hogwarts Cornish Pixie War of 2023."

"Then I can repay my debt by not committing fratricide."

" _For England!_ " James shouted on the other side of the Hall, blissfully oblivious. Professor Longbottom, who was not as involved in the spirit of war as most other students had resigned themselves to be, visibly winced at this. He was looking slightly hysterical as he waded knee-deep in the water alongside James' boat.

"There is a perfectly good lake that you could have used, James!" he cried. "Outside! A entire,  _really big_   _lake_.  _You didn't have to flood the Great Hall!_ "

"I didn't want to upset the Giant Squid," James said reasonably.

" _You didn't want to upset the Giant Sq_ — actually you know what, I don't care." And then Professor Longbottom overturned James' boat, with James still in it, and sloshed away, muttering something about only being a temporary Headmaster.

Lily pinched her lips together, trying very hard to not laugh. "Shall we… go to the kitchens and get some dinner and ice cream?"

I offered my arm to her. (I happen to consider myself a gentleman.) "It would be my pleasure, Lily."

She smiled, and she took my arm. I became a little wet in the process, but we'd both dried by the time we had ice cream.

* * *

Posted on the general Hogwarts noticeboard:

_Finally, on a more serious note: Samael Glyde. I've tried to ignore you but the fact remains that you are a creep and a slimeball and you make me shudder whenever I go near you. If the staff would care to proceed to the Room of Hidden Things, they will find a cache of necromantic equipment belonging to Glyde, including a set of Bells._

_I keep my promises and pay my debts._

_xoxo_

_GossipGhost_

 

* * *

  
**Chapter 9: from the not-so-private journal of Lorcan Scamander VII**

_Entry by James Sirius Potter_

_May 16, 2024_

I snagged your journal from the Gryffindor Common Room when I went there to help get the students under control today. Sorry, Lorcan – I thought Lysander might be planning to deface it again. I'll make sure it gets back to you soon.

Shame that all this rubbish had to happen so close to exams. I always knew that Glyde kid was bad news, but I didn't think he'd be so stupid as to attempt necromancy here at Hogwarts – let alone experiment on a teacher. (And of all teachers,  _Otterburn_. Like, what? Him? Really? Maybe because he's the DADA teacher?) If it wasn't for that GossipGhost this morning… no telling what Glyde could have done. I wasn't there for it, mind – I don't really know what happened other than what Neville told me. Apparently what happened is after reading the GG, Professor Robertson went straight to Neville. Teachers aren't supposed to pay attention to those stupid things, but this one was different – really serious. And since the Room of Requirement  _hasn't_  been healing itself, Neville took it seriously and found Glyde trying to kill our DADA teacher.

'Cause, you know, necromancy. That shizz is dangerous.

I didn't see Glyde until later, being led out by two Aurors. He didn't look like a criminal. He looked like a very upset young boy who made a really shitty mistake and just realised he'll be spending the rest of his life paying for it. I felt a bit sorry for him. But not too sorry, because necromancy. He tried to kill Otterburn. I mean, he was going to bring him back afterwards, but that's not the point.

Oh, and get this, get this – my Uncle  _Percy_  was the one to retrieve the Bells and revive Otterburn.  _Percy Weasley_. I know he's an Unspeakable but I seriously thought all he did all day was do paperwork, since he's usually boring as hell whenever we see him – remember that time when you got cornered by him a few Christmases ago, Lorcan, and he was droning on about regulations and the like? I saw him come into the school when I was waiting around outside with the teachers. He didn't stop to say hello or anything – he just went into where Otterburn was, came back out with the Bells wrapped up, and left. Whatever he did, he brought Otterburn back to "life" and he seemed to be just fine. I'm guessing Percy took a statement? I don't know. It's just generally been a very confusing, very serious day.

"I'm surprised you resurrected me so quickly," Otterburn said to Neville when the teachers all went up to see him.

Neville shrugged. "Well, I need  _someone_  to look after my greenhouses while I'm being the Headmaster."

It was a very heart-warming moment, but quickly spoiled when Neville remembered he'd have to hire a new DADA teacher, since he's unlikely to trust anyone other than Otterburn to be in his greenhouses.

"Now, to other matters," he said once we left Otterburn to recover. "James, I need you to take down your…" He struggled with himself a bit, probably looking for a word that wasn't rude. "Classes," he finished diplomatically.

"But I haven't done the Global Wizarding War yet!" I complained. Bit childish, I guess.

" _James._ "

Neville can be  _scary_  sometimes. I shut up right away and became serious. Neville sighed heavily, looking very tired, and reached out to grasp my shoulder. "James. I'm asking you to clear everything up by tomorrow, and keep it packed away until after the exams. After that… we'll see about you continuing your classes. I have the whole… necromancy situation to clean up after, and we need the school as restrained as it can be until it and the exams are over. You're a teacher here, and I need your support more than ever."

Fuck  _yeah_ , I'm a teacher here. I didn't say that, of course – the situation was very serious – but I showed my appreciation by nodding. "Of course, Headmaster."

He gave me a weak smile. "You can call me Neville, James."

Not sure how sincere he was, because I heard him sigh really heavily after I left and say to Professor Robertson, "See,  _he's_  the reason we can't have nice things."

Er. Hugo's asking to write in here and read what I just wrote. I hope that's okay? I'm sure it is – he's written in it before (even if it was by accident. Seriously, how absent-minded that that kid get?) I'll leave him with instructions to give this back to you, Lorcan – I have to head off and clear up my battlegrounds. I might enlist Johannes' help.

Cheers.

* * *

_Entry by Hugo Weasley_

_May 16, 2024_

They wouldn't let me see Sam.

I didn't even know what happened until Mum came to see me in the Hufflepuff Common Room. She told me a censored version of what James wrote (like his wasn't censored enough). "Hugo, what Samael did was very serious and very dangerous," she said. "You'll probably get a visit from some Aurors soon to ask about Samael's activities this year, but I'll make sure you only see them with either myself or your father present."

"But – what about Sam? Is he gonna be okay?"

Mum looked at me sadly. "He'll be fine. It's you I'm worried about."

"There's nothing wrong with me!"

Mum went really quiet and said, "He tried to put the blame on you."

I don't believe her. Sam's done weird things this year and he was really creepy with Livia's letters the other year, but he wouldn't do that. I told her that, but she shook her head. "You're lucky that no-one believed it for a moment. I don't want you in contact with him. All right?"

"Yes, Mum," I said.

"I'm sorry, Hugo, but it's for the best."

I  _hate_  this. It isn't fair. He just made a stupid mistake! "Can't you take his case?" I asked. "Can't you be his lawyer?"

Mum shook her head. "No, I can't. You're Sam's only friend at Hogwarts, and I'm your mother – they'd accuse me of a conflict of interest. But I can do my best to ensure that he is treated fairly. He's a child, after all. He won't get sent to Azkaban –"

"But they won't expel him, will they?"

"They mightn't have, in the past – but he might be sent instead to the Plymouth Magical School for Behavioural Rehabilitation."

"The school for delinquents?"

"Language, Hugo!" she ordered. "He'll be looked after there and he'll get to complete his schooling."

But I'll never see him again and I'm not allowed to write to him. I get that he did something really bad but he's still my  _friend_. If I'd known what he was really up to, I'm sure I could have talked him out of it. I mean, yeah, he didn't listen to me earlier this year, but I'm sure I could have. And now GossipGhost went and got him expelled from Hogwarts by ratting him out like he was a criminal.

I'll find GossipGhost. After the exams, and after James clears up the last of his trenches and pretend-oceans in the Great Hall, which apparently is what he's going to do tonight. Good luck to him, I say – he's made a real mess of the place (although, surprisingly, the greenhouses remain untouched). Admittedly, James' classes have been pretty cool. I think I'm all set for my History of Magic exam.

I'll give this back to you now, Lorcan, I promise. But I might need it again later, after the exams – if that's okay? So I can hunt down GossipGhost once and for all. I've got a feeling there'll be some clues in here.

* * *

_Entry by Lysander Scamander_

_May 17, 2024_

My sympathies to Hugo. Also, I'm not Lorcan and I honestly have no idea how he mixed the two of us up, because I'm the one the ruggedly handsome one and Lorcan is the one with the questionable haircut and his nose in a book all the time. So I  _should_  be feeling insulted, but I'll give him a pass this time because he looked real upset, poor kid. He shouldn't have been hanging out with that creep Glyde anyway. Necromancy, urgh. Lucky for him that Otterburn got better – if he'd died for real, Glyde would have had a Hearing and gotten a criminal record and everything.

And now for something completely different: well, that was stupid of me.

I mean, yeah, okay, I've done my fair share of stupid things – but you'd reckon that of all the things I've done this year, like jumping off the Astronomy Tower and diving into the Lake in the middle of winter and hang gliding, it would be one of the other things to land me in the Hospital Wing. But nooooo, it was sliding down a bannister that got me in here. Broke both my legs.

Dad will be so ashamed. At the  _very_  least it should have been the hang gliding that got me.

And, of course, Madame White had no sympathy for me. "Serves you right, Lysander Scamander! Behaving like a complete galoot all year – it's a wonder you weren't in here earlier! Now drink this and stay silent, not a word out of you. You really should act more like your brother – he's far more sensible…"

I don't think she likes me very much.

Anyway, Lorcan, you and your vicious gossip has gotten way out of control. You call yourself my brother? You traitorous scum, you knew all about Rose rigging the bets and you didn't tell me. I lost  _so much money_. So yeah, I did steal your diary to draw some more dicks in it (because you deserve it, you pretentious twat), but, IDK, I think writing is more cathartic and I  _literally_  have nothing else to do while I'm stuck in this bed waiting for my legs to heal. Madame White won't let me have anything. Not even a chess set, or my study notes! She seems to think there'll be a way I can use them to defy death again. And you, you sorry excuse for a brother, why haven't you come along to give me chocolate? You're probably in the library with Lily again making an illegal Time Turner.

(Speaking of you and Lily – "intellectual" interest? Really? That's what we're calling it now?)

So, exams are in two days. I was hoping that because of my terrible, soul-shattering injuries, I'd be excused from them, but no such luck – all of my teachers have informed me that they expect my presence for the exams, and Madame White has assured me I'll have recovered by tomorrow morning. I've given up on studying because I reckon if I don't know it by now, then I never will, so what's the point in stressing out about it? I'll be fine – and even if I'm not, it's not like the NEWTs are the be-all-and-end-all. Right?

_Later_

…Rose just came to visit me.

Look, I read her entry – the one she wrote during the Easter break – so… I knew how she was feeling about me (or rather, how she  _wasn't_  feeling about me) and she was… kind of right. Just a bit. I really like danger seeking. But not because it's, you know,  _dangerous_  (okay, a bit) but because of the adventure. It's fun.

She came into the hospital wing and sat down next to me in the chair, and shook her head. "I knew you'd get yourself tossed in here sooner or later."

"Broke both my legs," I said, trying not to sound inappropriately proud. I must've failed, because Rose rolled her eyes.

"Yes, I know, and I also know that you haven't been able to get out of your exams."

"Should've broken my legs tomorrow instead," I lamented. Rose takes things so seriously, sometimes – she frowned in disapproval – so… yeah, I guess it's not that hard to believe that she's the same girl who bullied Scorpius into dating her so that she could win her May bet. Sly woman. Why  _isn't_  she in Slytherin?

"You're lucky you didn't break anything else!"

I raised my eyebrows and said, "Anything else in  _particular_?"

 _Not_  my finest line. She kept on frowning, so I laughed awkwardly and said, "Right, okay, never saying that again."

"Much appreciated, Lysander."

"Um." I cleared my throat. I mean, if I could jump off the Astronomy Tower without hesitating, it really shouldn't have been hard to ask her out. "Rose. Do you… after the exams, would you like to go out with me?"

She stared and blinked.

"No," she said, and my heart shattered into millions of tiny pieces and I melted into a puddle of melodrama and angst.

Not really. But I swear that's what you sound like sometimes when you write, Lorcan.

No, I winced and said, "Ouch. Okay."

"Sorry, that was blunt."

"Just a bit."

Rose sighed and patted my arm. "Lysander, I asked you out a lot of times last year – and all this year, when you  _could_  have been asking me out, you instead decided to act like that Muggle adventurer fellow – Grill Bear or whatever his name is."

"Bear Grylls," I corrected.

"You're not really in love with me – you just like having the excuse to throw yourself off buildings for the thrill. Am I right?"

Since when is Rose ever  _wrong_? (Except for miscalculating Albus and Scorpius – but she got her way with that in the end.) I'll always love Rose Weasley a little bit. But I reckon… she is right. I love hang gliding and abseiling and getting myself into ridiculous situations more than I wanted to ask her out on a date.

I sighed. "Well, in that case – Rose Weasley. Would you like to accompany me hang gliding first thing tomorrow morning when I get out of here?"

She stared and blinked again. "Lysander, I  _just said_  –"

"Not a date-thing. A friend-thing. I think you'd like it. C'mon, don't deny it – you think it's fun!"

"I think it's  _ridiculous_. Not to mention, our NEWTs start in  _two days_  –!"

"So, it'll take your mind off things!" I held out my hand for her. "Promise you won't regret it."

She looked at me very dubiously, then took my hand and finally said, "Tomorrow morning. But if you drop me, Lysander Scamander,  _so help me_  you will regret it."

So that's a thing that is happening. I'd better not drop her, then.

* * *

 _Entry_   _by Lorcan Scamander_

_May 19, 2024_

At least Lysander was prompt in his return of this journal to me. Normally he'd make me hunt for it, but he must be in an altruistic mood because of his reconnection with Rose Victoria. (His entry certainly explains why they were seen hang gliding together early this morning.) I have been doubting Rose's reciprocation of his "feelings" for quite some time – her entry, and his subsequent entry, confirmed this. But I am very happy for the both of them, in that they have reconciled.

As I have long since given up attempting to keep this journal private and away from eyes that are not my own, I of course give Hugo Martin my blessing to borrow it in the future if he thinks it will help him search for GossipGhost.

My personal matter on the expulsion of Samael Glyde is perhaps better kept personal, but I shall say this: I think the young boy needs help, and I regret that Hugo has been so deeply affected by the unfortunate turn of events. GossipGhost, whoever it may be, has been quiet since his or her last notice, perhaps realising the severity of the situation. I do wonder what it meant by its debt being repaid.

I suppose it is high time for me to get a decent night of rest before the Charms exam tomorrow morning. I find myself ill prepared – unusual, considering my immaculate record for the past seven years with regard to my exams – but I am surprisingly unconcerned. The work I have been doing outside of the class syllabi with Lily is –  _[entry interrupted]_

_Later_

There has been a… rather spontaneous change of plan. I am waiting now in the Gryffindor Common Room, long after curfew, for Lily to change and equip herself with the necessary instruments.

A brief recount, while I wait:

I was in the library, as usual, not long after dinner. The general atmosphere of the restructured Great Hall (still a little damp, but no longer flooded) was rather sombre, in part due to the expulsion of Samael Glyde and the impending examinations. I found it rather depressing; Albus, Scorpius, Rose, and Lysander concurred. They all went off in their respective ways – Albus and Scorpius to… somewhere I'm not entirely sure I wish to know, and Rose and Lysander to the Gryffindor Common Room to either abseil or study. I retired to the library, as I noticed Lily was nowhere in sight and I thought she might be there.

As it transpired, I was incorrect, but only for about twenty minutes. She located me quickly at our usual spot, slightly breathless with excitement and lugging with her a large bag.

"Um – Lorcan?"

"Good evening, Lily," I said, closing my books. I noted her demeanour. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes, everything's great! Um." She bit her lower lip. "Would you consider breaking into the Ministry of Magic with me to steal some hourglasses for our Time Turners?"

"I –" I blinked. "Pardon?"

Lily grabbed my hand. "Tonight. After curfew. Would you consider coming with me to break into the Department of Mysteries to steal the hourglasses?"

I had in fact heard her the first time, yet I was just as befuddled the second time – but I apparently said "Yes", because before I knew it she'd dragged me up to the Gryffindor Tower and told me to wait in the Common Room.

It all happened rather quickly.

"Right, so – here's your bag." She passed the bag she'd been holding over to me, and I noted its lightness despite the size. "It has everything you might need in it for a trip to the past or the future." Lily paused, then added, "Or, you know, if we become fugitives."

"It always pays to be prepared."

She winked. "We'll have to finish the Time Turners at the Ministry. I've got the sand up in my room – so once we're in the Department of Mysteries, we fit our Time Turners with the hourglasses and run right back to Hogwarts."

"We're coming back here?"

"I'm not missing breakfast before we go on the run from the law," she said reasonably.

Fair enough.

Before she went up the stairs to her dormitory, I grasped her hand. "There will be no coming back from this, Lily."

She grinned. "I know. Isn't it exciting?"

It is.

I suspect wherever I go after this night – be it in the past or future, or in the present in Azkaban (although I sincerely hope not the latter) – I will not immediately require this unfaithful journal. It contains too many of Lily's and my notes about our work, dangerous things that if they end up in the wrong hands in the wrong time the repercussions could be quite terrible. And considering how eagerly my journal strays… it is safest if this journal remains in the subjective present of 2024, with someone I trust.

Lysander – you may draw as many phalluses in these pages as you desire. But  _do_  take care of it, won't you? I'll leave it on the table here – someone will recognise it, no doubt, and pass it along to you. Let Hugo read it, when he requires it. I wish him the best of luck. And I wish you all the best for your exams, Lysander. (Normally I'd advise you to "break a leg", but I believe you've already broken both.) This isn't goodbye – just a farewell for now. You will probably see me at breakfast, but if not then, then hopefully in the near future.

So now I wait and prepare, and when Lily comes down… we are going to break into the Department of Mysteries.

_Addendum_

I'm afraid I've come to realise something most profound. I said at the beginning of the school year that I should like to ask Lily out, but I was incorrect when I wrote that my interest in her was not romantic, but intellectual.

It is both, and more. I am most ardently in love with Lily Potter and have been for quite some time, and I cannot contemplate a life where I am not by her side.

* * *

  
  
**Chapter 10: from the not-so-private journal of Lorcan Scamander VII**   
  


_Entry_   _by Lysander Scamander_

_May 20, 2024_

Holy shit, Lorcan.

_Later_

_Holy shit, Lorcan._

_Later again_

No, I mean it. I have  _no idea_  what is going on in this school anymore. I'm calm enough now to recount, I think, but  _still_ …

_Later again_

I suppose this is my pretentious diary now, since Lorcan left it to me and all. As a parting gift. Because, oh yeah, he and Lily blew off school and are on the run from the Ministry of Magic and could literally be anywhere in history right now. And you know what? Since it's my pretentious diary now, I'm going to recount because I seriously have trouble wrapping my head around all of this.

(First exam went well, but that's really beside the point.)

I swear it was a normal morning. Normal-ish anyway, this being Hogwarts and all. It was strange not seeing the barricades everywhere anymore (I have no doubt they'll be back, though) and I went to the Common Room to wait for Rose to go to breakfast. Terrence came down with me, reciting Transfiguration answers. I may or may not have been contemplating how I could copy off him during the test.

"Ease up, Terrence," I said, elbowing him, and he scowled.

"Just because you've got a career ahead of you as the next world-famous daredevil doesn't mean the rest of us do," he snapped, and stomped off, startling Rose who was coming down the stairs from the Girl's Dorm into the Common Room. Then again,  _anything_  would have startled her at that point – I don't think she slept at all last night. Too busy hyperventilating about the NEWTs.

"Morning," I said, and she muttered a vague "Hello" back, looking like she was ready to throw up. I dunno why she was so stressed about not passing her exams, 'cause even if she miraculously flunks out of everything she made a mint from the Albus/Scorpius thing. She's set for the next year, at  _least_. But I didn't say that, so I bumped her shoulder instead. "Hey. Rose."

"What?"

"Wanna take out the hang glider before the exams start?"

"No, I want to study before the exams start!"

I poked her shoulder again. "It'll make you feel better…"

She cracked a smile. "You know what'll also make me feel better?"

"What's that?"

She punched my arm.

"Ow!"

"There, much better. Now come and sit with me while I study before breakfast."

So I sat with her at one of the tables and she pulled out all of her books, but then she glanced down and saw this diary lying there all innocent-like.

"Isn't that Lorcan's diary?" she asked.

"Huh," I said. "I don't remember stealing it yesterday."

I picked it up but didn't open it, because I thought that all I'd find in it were more pretentious descriptions of his 'intellectual admiration' for Lily. (And I almost believed it, too, until he told us he was hetero! All this time and I had no idea. My own  _brother_. It's like I don't even know the guy.)

"Should I leave it in the Whomping Willow this time?" I asked Rose. She rolled her eyes at me and tried to snatch it out of my hands. I held it over her head. "C'mon, please? End of school and all that, wrap up it all up with a bang."

"And how would Lorcan get it back, exactly?"

"Magic?"

"Don't be smart, Lysander, it doesn't suit you."

Yep, still adore that woman. I put the diary in my bag instead, with every intention to just return it to Lorcan because I hadn't read that last entry by him at the time.

( _Holy shit, Lorcan._ )

"You haven't seen Lily this morning, have you?" Rose asked on the way down to breakfast. "I didn't see her in the dorm. I wanted to wish her luck for her exams."

"You've wished her luck every other year and she always ends up flunking. I think you're jinxing her."

Rose didn't find it as funny as I did, but whatever. After she decided she'd studied as much as she could in that hour (I mostly played cards by myself, since I figure if I don't know the work by now then I'm never gonna know it, so why bother studying?) we decided to go get breakfast. Things have been really sober in Hogwarts since GossipGhost outed Glyde and since James took down his barricades and trenches, and it was even worse this morning because of the exams. We were almost at the Great Hall when Albus and Scorpius caught up to us.

"Hey! Have you guys seen Lorcan?"

"Nope, but I did find his diary in Gryffindor!" I said proudly.

"It's the crown achievement of his years at Hogwarts," Rose said, rolling her eyes. "No, I haven't seen him. Lorcan was probably up all night studying time travel with Lily in the library. Their obsession has gotten completely out of hand…"

"Speak of the devil," Scorpius said, and Lorcan and Lily themselves jogged up to us in the clothes they were wearing yesterday, looking exhausted and extremely shifty. Well, Lily was – Lorcan was looking as vacantly amused at everything around him as he usually did.

"Oh, hey! Good morning!" Lily said, looking and sounding very breathless. "Lovely day."

Not at all suspicious.

Rose narrowed her eyes. "Lily…"

"Yes?"

"What have you done?" Rose looked closer. "And why have you got a bag with you?"

"Well, you know," Lily said lightly, "packed clothes, food, potions. The usual."

"Equipped with all the necessary items for a historically engaging trip or to be on the run as fugitives," Lorcan supplied helpfully. "Lily is most organised."

"Er," Scorpius said, the same time Rose said, "What?"

"Lily is most organised," Lorcan repeated.

"Not that!" Rose exclaimed. "Lorcan, you – what did you and Lily  _do_?"

"Something quite illegal. Apologies, Rose Victoria," Lorcan said. I was a bit too stunned to say anything, and I think Albus and Scorpius were playing catch-up as well. Rose focused on the only thing that made sense to her:

"You're not seriously considering skipping your exams!"

"I assure you, it was entirely spontaneous."

"That is not reassuring! Lily is the one I expected that sort of behaviour from, but not from you, Lorcan!"

"Perhaps I am more impressionable than any of us suspected," Lorcan said dryly. Snarky bastard. I've never been prouder to call him my brother. (Or shocked, because  _holy shit_.) He turned back to face Lily, away from Rose's scandalised expression, and checked his pocket watch. I didn't even know he  _had_  a pocket watch, but in hindsight I really should have been wondering why he never had one on him before. He's just that kind of person. So anyway, he checked it then tucked it away again, and cleared his throat.

"At any rate, I estimate we have one and a half minutes before the Ministry arrives to take us into custody," he said mildly, and everyone around him and Lily did this second-take blanch.

"Wait, what?" Albus finally said, but Lily and Lorcan ignored him.

Lily bit her lower lip, lifted a Time Turner – and honest-to-Merlin actual completed Time Turner (they  _fucking did it_ ) – around Lorcan's neck, then another one around her own, and said, "In that case, Lorcan – I, uh, I have something to tell you."

Lorcan waited for her to speak. She bit her lip again, bounced on her toes, and blurted out, "I love you."

You know, I reckon she's the  _only person_  capable of rendering my brother speechless? He gaped at her a bit, stumbled over some noises that vaguely resembled human speech, and managed to get out: "Quite right, too."

Not the most romantic of things to say, but Lily seemed to find it amusing.

"And I suppose…" Lorcan continued, "if it's my first chance to say it… Lily Potter –"

I guess Lorcan was going to say  _I love you_ , but none of us got the chance to hear it because Lily yanked on his tie, closed the gap between them, and kissed him.

You know. As you do.

They didn't get much of a chance to snog. Probably a good thing in the long run, because Albus looked ready to blow a fuse at Lorcan snogging his younger sister. No, instead, Head Auror Harry Potter himself and a group of Aurors burst through the Entrance Hall doors, making Lily and Lorcan jump apart.

"Official Auror business, stand aside," Mr Potter said, pushing through the crowd. He didn't even stop to talk to Professor Longbottom, who started to protest ("What's going on? Harry!") and held up a hand to halt his Aurors behind him as he stood before Lily and Lorcan.

"Put that down!" Mr Potter snapped, pushing down an eager Auror's wand next to him. "Lily –"

"Dad?"

He really stared at her and she stared back – looking all giddy and dangerous. Lorcan's hands were still on her waist (brave man), holding her tightly – and Mr Potter said, "There's no turning back from this, Lily."

I'm not really sure what passed between him and Lily just at that moment. I've never had much to do with Lily, see, or Mr Potter. But Lily nodded and said, "I know."

He sighed. "I love you, Lils."

"You too, Dad."

Mr Potter straightened his shoulders and drew up his wand. "Lily Potter and Lorcan Scamander," he said, "you are both under arrest for the breaking and entering of the Department of Mysteries and illegal obtainment of classified objects. Do not attempt to resist arrest."

'Cause, you know, that sort of stuff happens  _all_  the time at Hogwarts.

The Aurors started to close in on them – they'd got a large audience by this stage, students and ghosts and teachers and examiners all in deathly silence gathered around to watch the drama – and Lily faced Lorcan, gripping her Time Turner.

"God I hope this works," Lily breathed. Lorcan cupped her cheek.

"I trust you."

They flipped their Time Turners together, and vanished.

( _HOLY SHIT, LORCAN_.)

"Well, great," Scorpius said. " _Now_  how are we going to get into the Ravenclaw Common Room?"

* * *

Posted on the general Hogwarts noticeboard:

_\- Spotted: Signs of a "stuggle" in Greenhouse Three_

_\- Spotted: S granting B a shoulder to cry on – is all forgiven?_

_\- Spotted: Two lovebirds playing tourist. But the question isn't so much where, as_ when _?_

 _\- Spotted: Rather more Firewhiskey than we're comfortable admitting. The acting Head has our_ deepest _sympathies._

_\- Spotted: A remorseless redhead, out for blood. Or should that be ectoplasm? Perhaps it's finally time._

* * *

_Entry by Hugo Weasley_

_June 5, 2024_

Exams are over. It's been a crazy few weeks – everyone's still talking about Lily and Lorcan. I have trouble believing it, really. I mean, yeah,  _Lily_  I can understand, but Lorcan? Wow. That was kind of impressive.

Anyway. I've borrowed Lorcan's diary – or is it Lysander's now? – to see if I can work out who GossipGhost is. Lorcan's entries are really detailed, so… even if he didn't know who GG is, I'm sure there'll be some hints.

_Later_

Okay. I think I know who it is.

_Later again_

Wow.

Okay.

Um. I was right about my suspicions. To be honest, I wasn't really expecting that, but… wow.

After I wrote that last entry I started by taking a long detour around the school, retracing the places GG had been to, judging by the last half-hearted notice on the board. Everyone was mostly milling around the school now that exams were over, so it was hard to know where to start. I started in the dungeons, then went to the Great Hall, then through the entrance hall, using my stethoscope to listen and locate my target to follow them. I lost the trail, 'cause everyone was having lunch, so I went down to the grounds and past the Herbology greenhouses. I'm not sure what was going on down there, but I heard Neville talking: "Look, I'm not judging you two or anything, but  _oh my god!_ "

And finally I picked up the trail again and followed it until I ended up on the second floor in an unused classroom.

I closed the door behind me. "You," I said.

The Bloody Baron regarded me with eerie coolness. "Good evening, Hugo Weasley."

"Baron," I said. "I know it's you. You're GossipGhost."

He bowed his head. "I expected you to discover my identity sooner or later," he intoned. "After all, Hufflepuffs have always been particularly good finders."

I clearly wasn't  _that_  good, since it took me the whole year to find him, but I appreciated the sentiment. But not too much, because I was still angry at him. I frowned at him and said, "Why did you do that to Sam? Why did you get him kicked out of Hogwarts? He was in Slytherin! One of your own!"

"Samael Glyde carried with him the stench of death. He now has a chance to lead a less troubled life. It is up to him to decide which path he will walk."

"That wasn't your choice to make!"

"Not my choice, no," the Baron agreed, and didn't say anything else. I crossed my arms.

"You know I'll tell people that you're GossipGhost," I warned him. He didn't seem concerned.

"I rather suspected you would."

"Right. Well, then."

"Mister Glyde was no friend of yours, Hugo Weasley. You'll do well to remember that." He bowed his head at me again. "Adieu."

* * *

_Entry by Lysander Scamander_

_June 7, 2024_

The Bloody Baron?  _The Bloody freaking Baron?_  He's GossipGhost?!

_I can't even with this school anymore._

* * *

_Entry by Lysander Scamander_

_June 16, 2024_

Well, the term is over. That's it. No more Hogwarts.

To be honest, I… really don't know what to be feeling. I thought I'd be happy to get out of here and seize the chance to go exploring, or skydiving, or whatever. And I mean, I am, but I'm also kind of… sad. I'm gonna miss Hogwarts. I'm going to miss all of my friends – we're friends anyway, but it'll be a bit different now – and I'll miss the GossipGhosts (damn shame the Bloody Baron isn't going to keep it up), and I'm especially going to miss James' barricades. (He's determined to do it all again next year with Johannes as his teaching assistant, though – Professor Longbottom's going spare. He doesn't seem to care that everyone in fourth year and above sat for the History of Magic NEWT just because they could, and passed.)

But Hogwarts hasn't been the same since Lorcan (and Lily) left.  _This_  isn't the same. This is still his journal and I really can't do justice to his voice. Actually, I haven't heard from him at all – I hope he's okay. I want to know what they  _did_  in the Department of Mysteries. He'd better freakin' tell me when he writes or visits, otherwise I'm flushing that Time Turner of his down the toilet.

Anyway. I'm back home now and I should start packing – I'm going on a camping/hiking trip with Rose in a couple of days. Platform 9 ¾ is usually a really awesome part of the year for all of us, but today it was sober, much like the last few weeks of school. There wasn't all that much to say to Rose and Al and Scorpius. Al and Score are going to go off and do… whatever it is they do when they're together. I dunno how long their thing will last but they seem happy. Al's probably going to do something with Potions (surprise, surprise) and Scorpius wants to work for curse breakers or something-or-other with the Ministry.

I think Ginny's disappointed none of her children turned out to be Quidditch pros like her. She said hi to me before everyone went off their own ways and told me to keep up my flying, since "none of my kids could be bothered to sit on a broom for more than ten minutes at a time – I'm starting to think they were switched at birth."

Livia and Hugo were on the side talking together, as usual. No surprise there. Also no surprise is that Mr Malfoy and Mr Weasley have already put in their bets for them:

"Twenty galleons on 2026," Mr Weasley said (after Hermione was out of earshot).

"Thirty on 2027," Mr Malfoy insisted.

Then – get this – Mr Potter said, "Second week of February, 2031. Fifty galleons."

Mr Malfoy and Mr Weasley stared at him and Mr Potter shrugged. Well, I know who's going to lose that bet.

Rose thinks it's ridiculous and scoffed at it all, but I'm suspicious of her now – for all I know, she's probably put in a fair amount of money on Hugo and Livia already. Sly woman. I'm convinced the Sorting Hat put her in Gryffindor because it assumed all Weasleys belonged in Gryffindor and didn't realise until after it Sorted her that she should've been in Slytherin.

I'm going to stick ten galleons in for 2026 – I  _have_  learned my lesson about betting pools this year.

(…I'm so fucking broke.)

Not much else to say, really. I've never been one for the big descriptions, like Lorcan was. Shame – he'd have done a much better job at this. (Or waxed poetic about Lily's ingeniousness and the brilliance of her mind for a couple of paragraphs.)

Before we all parted ways, I did see Mr Potter pull Scorpius to the side. They were too far away from anyone else to hear what they were saying, but Mr Potter was looking very Serious and Concerned and Scorpius was frowning, so I guess it was the obligatory "Don't hurt my son" speech.

And… that's it. It's been a kind of strange year.

_Later_

I hope Lorcan writes soon.

* * *

Posted on the general Hogwarts noticeboard:

_It's finally time _–_  the end of another term, another year is upon us, and hasn't it been fun! Such a delicious crop of scandals sprung up as Hogwarts played host to its biggest resdesign since that time with old Voldie in '98. Good times, good times..._

_We've had it all this year – catfights, sordid affairs, the first bloom of Young Love, and some conduct_ seriously _unbecoming of a staff member. In fact, if it wasn't for dear little Sammy it would have been a perfect year!_

 _But he just had to go and spoil all the fun. Now, try to hold back your tears, my darlings, as with great regret I announce that I am hanging up my quill. It's been so much fun playing "ghostwriter", but Higher Management has spoken, and besides – I'm just too_ fabulous _to be contained!_

_As a final treat for you all before I resume my regularly scheduled mayhem, it is my honour to present what you've all been salivating for. No, not the exclusive photos of a certain Greenhouse tryst – you don't get that for free..._

_Ladies and gentlemen, for the the first and only time: the brains, the mastermind, in his own words at last: GossipGhost speaks._

_You know you love me,_

_Peevesy_

* * *

_Students and staff of Hogwarts,_

_In light of recent events, not least the unfortunate arrest of Mr Samael Glyde, I feel that it is finally time to end this. It is not always easy to sit powerlessly in the background while momentuous events take place before you. It can be even harder when those events tend more toward the "trivial" end of the scale. Having spent centuries playing the unwilling audience to human dramatics, I must admit that my motives in writing these missives were... less than pure._

_I never intended to directly harm anyone, and I hope that the good I have done manages to outweigh the bad. If nothing else, it gives me no small pleasure to know that I have finally managed to discharge a debt owed to a very old and dear friend._

_I wish you all the very best of luck in the future... and for some of you, in the past._

_xoxo_

_The Bloody Baron, aka_   
_"GossipGhost"_

 

* * *

  
**Chapter 11: postscript**   
  
  


_August 26, 2024_

Dear Lysander,

My sincerest apologies that I did not contact you sooner – I did receive your letter that you sent in July, but I'm afraid Lily and I are still working out how to control where in time we "land", so to speak. I meant to return to the subjective present, however we overshot our expected arrival by a month, which means we will have to make up that month up in another time period to ensure we remain consistent with our natural timeline.

I have missed you and our friends and family dearly. I am also penning letters to mother and father, and to Albus and Scorpius, to inform them of my general health and travels. It has been most invigorating, Lysander – you won't believe the places Lily and I have been to and what we have seen in our short time away! Thus far we believe we can only travel back as far as 1960, and only as far forward as 2060. Lily is, naturally, wanting to continue her experiments and expand the field – and I am, as always, her enabler. I am more than content to explore the century at our fingertips, but I am not one to stifle her ingenuity. Speaking of Lily, she is doing very well and she thanks you for asking – and she also would like to know how Rose is enjoying your own adventurous travels.

What a delight to hear about Albus' promising career start! I always suspected his talents would take him to the field of Potions. I shall have to congratulate him on his internship in my letter to him.

Yes, I rather thought the Ministry would still have Lily and myself charged for robbing the Department of Mysteries. It is of little consequence to me (in fact, rather to father's delight and mother's pleasantly surprised indifference) and Lily is able to avoid the authorities deftly enough. It is fortunate that Mr Potter doesn't consider himself to be on work hours when he is at home with Ginevra, which is where we are presently stationed for a few days.

You asked about what happened at the Ministry, but I feel it would be better to tell you in person. Lily is recording the event in her own new journal, one gifted to her just recently by Mr Potter, down to the finest detail. It is times like this I wish I still had my journal, but I trust you are keeping it (and my equations) safe. With luck, it will not stray from your hand as frequently as it strayed from mine.

I will visit you sometime, Lysander – I have sorely missed you. I will find a way to communicate with you whilst not in the subjective present, possibly through a mailing service, but until then Lily and I must continue to investigate the parameters of our field.

My best wishes to you, and my congratulations on your NEWT results – I knew you would do very well. And your Outstanding grade in History of Magic comes as no surprise, even though I do not recall you being enrolled in the class. Did you merely take the exam because you could? No doubt James is very pleased with himself – I hear from Hugo Martin that he has been celebrating his success by declaring war on Hogwarts so that he can bring his barricades back indoors for the winter…

Farewell for now, but I hope to see you or hear from you soon.

With love, your brother,

Lorcan

PS: The Bloody Baron? Really?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There were three or four more stories in this series planned, but sadly, I never wrote them for several reasons, both personal and professional. Personal reasons are behind me now, but professionally, I'm proud of announce that I put a hold on fanfiction for several years, and my original novel, _Heart of Dust_ (details here: https://hlmoorewrites.tumblr.com/post/171495100438) is out and available to purchase on Kobo and Kindle!
> 
> Maybe one day I'll come back and finish these stories... but until then, I hope you've enjoyed these despite their age (ahhh 2012, a simpler time). Thank you for reading!


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